Les Something
by Sarah1281
Summary: Life in post-Napoleon France can be short and brutal with tragic endings almost inevitable. Of course, just because everyone's going down in flames doesn't mean that they can't occasionally escape from the world of rationality and misery and see where they end up. They might be just as dead at the end but they'll have had a far more entertaining fall. Les Misérables parody.
1. Chapter 1

Les Something

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Javert watched thoughtfully as the convicts sang along to their work.

"I still don't like it," he said finally.

"You think the singing means that they're too happy and so we're not doing our duty of making their lives as miserable as possible?" a fellow guard inquired.

Javert shook his head. "No, no, they look quite miserable and, in case there was any doubt, they're singing about how miserable they are and how they might as well just die right there. Perhaps if they have the energy to sing they have the energy to do more work but that's not my department."

"Then do you just not like the song?" the guard asked, a little bewildered. The convicts managed to put on a surprisingly pleasant performance given that none of them had any voice lessons and many couldn't even read.

"I'm suspicious of the song," Javert explained. "I've heard that sometimes captured peoples communicate with each other through seemingly innocuous songs. Of course, they are unjustly enslaved and these are perfectly lawfully imprisoned men but they seem to feel that they're victims so I imagine that the principle is about the same."

"But we're hearing the songs, too," the guard protested. "We know that it's just them complaining about how long their sentence is."

"That's what it _sounds _like," Javert agreed. "But is it _really _about that?"

"I…think so," the guard said, now sounding far less certain.

"I'm just saying that I want to know when they have the time to compose and then learn and finally harmonize all these songs," Javert said. "Even if they are not passing secret escape messages through them, the secret meetings that they must be having to be capable of this would be a wonderful time to plot escape. And speaking of…"

The guard nodded. "On it."

He went away and returned a few minutes later with a prisoner in his mid-forties.

"How was he trying to escape this time?" Javert inquired politely.

"I am offended by the presumption," the prisoner declared.

"He was lowering a rope ladder from the top of the roof," the guard replied, placing the ladder on Javert's desk.

"I've never seen that before in my life," the prisoner lied. "And even if I had, it's Thursday."

"Maybe if you would vary up the days that you tried to escape you'd have better luck," Javert suggested.

"Javert!" the guard was scandalized. "You can't just give the prisoners escape advice!"

Javert frowned. "I'm just trying to break up the monotony here. Maybe if _someone _would just reassign me already I wouldn't have to resort to such drastic measures."

The guard just shook his head, clearly at a loss for words.

The prisoner waited until they were done to speak. "I did think of that but then Thursday is just the perfect day to escape. The timing doesn't quite fit on any of the other days."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore since we're releasing you today," Javert told him. "And you knew that so why were you even trying to escape? Yes," he held up a hand here to forestall any possible protests, "I know that it is Thursday but it really seems unnecessary."

"I don't want to be _released_," the prisoner replied. "I want to escape. If I wanted to be released I would have stopped trying to escape years ago."

"Are you sure that we're doing the right thing letting him out on parole?" the guard asked, warily eying the prisoner. "I mean, with his weekly escape attempts we really should never let him out."

Javert shrugged. "It comes from the top. He's as sick of reading the reports on 24601's escape as we are of writing them and it's really setting a bad example. That's why, if anyone asked, he only tried to escape four times."

"My _name _is Jean Valjean," Valjean said indignantly.

Javert glanced over at him. "So it is."

"So please address me by it," Valjean said sternly. "Especially since I'm going to be free today."

Javert looked briefly amused. "Oh, is that what you think it is?"

"Well it _is_ the end of my sentence," Valjean said, not liking the sound of this.

"That is true," Javert conceded. "But you're a thief so you have to have a yellow ticket-of-leave that you must show everywhere you go and will likely mean you'd be better off just staying here."

"I am _not _a thief!" Valjean objected.

"You stole something," Javert said flatly.

"_One time_!" Valjean exclaimed.

"Once is all it takes," Javert said virtuously. "If you kill someone one time you are a murderer. If you rape someone one time you are a rapist. If you kidnap someone one time then you are a kidnapper. It's pretty standard."

"But I _didn't _do any of those things and I had a longer sentence than some of those who did!" Valjean cried out. "I just stole a loaf of bread."

"Ah but you stole it from a house and that makes it robbing a house which is more serious," Javert corrected him.

"I broke a window pane!" Valjean argued. "And my sister's children were starving and close to death."

"Correct me if I'm wrong but doesn't the law say 'don't steal' and not 'don't steal unless you're really poor and are convinced you have a good reason'?" Javert asked idly. "Besides, at your trial the baker testified that he would have given you the damn loaf if you had just asked and not up and broken his window."

"That did not actually occur to me," Valjean admitted.

"And you just threw the loaf away once you got it," Javert added.

"It had blood on it!"

"See, your problem is that you just don't think things through," Javert diagnosed. "Let us hope that these nineteen years have given you some capacity to do so."

"I would like to declare right now that it is completely ridiculous that I had nineteen years in prison for taking one loaf of bread and breaking one window pane," Valjean told him.

Javert nodded. "Duly noted. But you should remember it was only five for that and fourteen for those hundreds of escape attempts. Be grateful we're letting you out at all."

"I thought it was four," Valjean said smugly. "And five years for one little window is rather excessive."

"Hey, I don't make the law, 24601, I just obsessively uphold it," Javert said defensively.

"It's Jean Valjean," Valjean reminded him.

Javert rolled his eyes. "Since you're going to be so anal about names then you might as well know mine. I'm Javert. I doubt very much that we should meet again but if you remember that then I'll make an effort to call you by your non-prison name at least once at some point in the future. After all, I do better on my performance reviews if convicts still know and fear me years after being released."

"You're too kind," Valjean said sarcastically.

* * *

It had taken Valjean an hour or so to look for work after leaving the prison because he kept getting distracted by the outside world, something he had very rarely seen in his nineteen years locked up (something he technically shouldn't have seen at all but, well, he did rather escape a lot).

Finally, just when some local observers were getting ready to seek to get him to a madhouse for all of his marveling over perfectly ordinary things like streams and trees, he settled down and went to work as a laborer. Unfortunately, there was a slight problem when the time came to pay him.

"What?" the man asked defensively. "It's your pay. I'm not cheating you, really."

"I'm the last in line to be paid so I literally just watched you give eleven other men twice what you've given me," Valjean argued.

The man's jaw dropped. "Oh, now that's just nonsense! I gave them all 30 sous and I gave you 25! In what world is that _half_?"

"In the world where you just admitted to me that you cheated me," Valjean said triumphantly.

"I really didn't," the man repeated.

Valjean gave him a skeptical look. "Really. Because it sounds like you just admitted to paying me less."

"That's not cheating you," the man insisted. "To begin with, I am the employer and there is no union so I can pay what I want."

"But the agreed-upon rate is five sous more," Valjean replied.

The man shrugged. "You're a convict."

"_Ex _-convict," Valjean said stubborn, crossing his arms.

The man rolled his eyes. "You don't stop being a convict just because they let you out of prison! It's called 'convict' for 'convicted.' Serving your sentence doesn't erase the past."

"Well I just don't see what my past has to do with how much I'm getting paid," Valjean told him.

The man sighed. "Look, it's like this. Because you're a convict I don't want you around so don't bother coming back tomorrow. I am suspicious of you and fear that you are a dangerous man who might hurt me. Therefore, I have no choice but to treat you terribly because that's obviously the best way to make sure that you won't hurt me."

Valjean just stared at him. "That's not really how those things work."

"What do you know about how violent people think?" the man asked contemptuously. "You're a convict!"

Grumbling, Valjean took the money the man deigned to give him and wandered off. He tried to locate somewhere to stay but everyone had somehow heard all about his past and were all under the same impression that the best way to protect yourself from a dangerous and violent man is to piss him off.

"It's official, I hate the world," Valjean said to nobody in particular as he settled down in the mud outside. "I only thought I did before but now I'm positive of it. Everyone's so judgmental and hateful and really giving me no incentive not to rob them all blind. I mean, I was thinking about maybe reforming or something after nineteen years in prison but after this they can forget it. And hey, if I get rearrested then at least I'll have someplace to stay. That jailer really wasn't thinking very clearly when he told me that I couldn't stay but if I got arrested later then we could talk. And I might even get a chance to escape properly this time…decisions decisions…"

An old man approached him. "Excuse me, did I hear you say that you were looking for a place to stay for the night?"

Valjean looked up, startled. "I'm sure you didn't since I didn't say that."

The old man nodded. "Ah, right, I heard the panicked townspeople demanding that I get rid of you and deduced that you must need a place to stay instead."

"Who are you?" Valjean demanded.

"I'm the local bishop," the bishop explained.

That was not what Valjean had been expecting. "I've only ever seen a bishop once."

"I hope that I can match his conduct," the bishop said humbly.

"It would be hard not to," Valjean said bluntly. "It was in the prison and we were all forced to listen to him give a sermon. Well, try to listen. I was too far back to have heard anything. And they kept the peace by training guns on us the entire time. Honestly, I didn't get much out of the experience."

"That is unfortunate," the bishop said, bowing his head. "Well allow me to try to give you a better bishop experience then. I would like to invite you to stay in my house tonight. I have a very nice guest bed."

Valjean stared at him suspiciously. "Just like that?"

The bishop nodded. "Just like that."

"You did hear the part where I've been to prison, right?" Valjean asked, just to make sure. "I've been there for nineteen years and escaped four times and this paper they gave me says that I'm really dangerous."

The bishop helped him to his feet. "Right this way, monsieur."

Valjean couldn't help but light up at that. Still, he said, "I'm not altogether sure that you're even listening to me."

"We'll set out our best silver!" the bishop said grandly.

* * *

The next morning, the bishop sitting peacefully in his garden when two police constables dragged Valjean back before him.

"Oh, hello," the bishop said, vaguely surprised. "I thought you had already left."

Valjean wouldn't look at him.

"He did," one of the constables said grimly. "And it turns out that he robbed you blind, too. If you weren't a bishop we would totally say that we told you so."

"I don't recall being robbed," the bishop said, frowning.

"Well we know that he was staying here last night," the constable began.

"How ever did you know that?" the bishop inquired.

"Your sister told everybody," the constable explained. "Said that if you were to all be murdered in your beds she wanted us to be sure that we got the guy. And we found this silver set in his bag and your sister already filled out a robbery report. Actually, she filled one out for everything valuable in the house last night and just had to hand it the right one to us this morning."

"She certainly is diligent, I'll give her that," the bishop mused. "Still, I'm afraid that she's much mistaken."

"So this _isn't _your silver?" the constable asked incredulously.

"Not anymore it isn't," the bishop replied. "It was until this man got here. My sister neglected to consult me about her police report filing and I'm afraid I did not get a chance to inform her that I gave our silver away."

Valjean's head shot up and he looked at the bishop like he had never seen anything quite like him. And a little bit like he was worried that the old man had gone senile but it was mostly awe and gratitude.

The constable still couldn't believe it. "So you're saying that you just gave this convict your silvery cutlery?"

The bishop nodded and smiled beatifically. "I did. And what's more, if you'll excuse me a moment…" He went inside the house and shortly returned with two beautiful silver candlesticks. "I decided to give these to him, too. They're worth a great deal of money and they're my most prized possessions."

"Why are you doing all of this?" the constable cried out.

"I'm nearing the end of my days and applying for sainthood," the bishop replied.

Shaking their heads, the constables turned and left.

"I…I don't know what to say," Valjean said the moment they were alone. "You could have…And I would have deserved…Thank you."

"I will be greatly rewarded in heaven," the bishop assured him. "But let's talk about you. If you're going to go around robbing kindly old bishops then I can't say that I think much of how you plan on treating the rest of the world. That won't make you happy or keep you out of prison. And since I've now bought your soul, I'm giving it to God. Be a better person and stop stealing from people."

Valjean frowned. "I don't think you can _buy _a person's soul. In fact, I'm pretty sure that that was what all of that mess about the indulgences and the Protestant Reformation was about."

"Are you saying that you would like me to keep my money?" the bishop asked pointedly.

Valjean coughed. "On the other hand, I'm quite pleased that my soul fetches such a brilliant price. I will try to be a better person."

"I do hope you try soon," the bishop told him. "I will be pleased if, at any point during your life, you decide to be a good person but I do hope that you'll do it before robbing a small child and possibly completely ruining his life or possibly even leading to his death."

Valjean looked at him strangely. "I'll see what I can do."

The bishop smiled warmly at him. "That's all I ask. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go find some sick people to visit."

Valjean stood staring after him for awhile, ignoring the bishop's sister glaring at him from inside the house.

"I hate guilt," he complained. "I thought I was past all of that but I suppose that if priests are good at making you feel guilty then a super priest like a bishop would be even better at it. And now I suppose I don't technically _have _to steal anymore since this silver I've been given is worth so much. But it's so difficult when everyone treats you like you're some kind of monster! You even start robbing from the few people who are kind to you which actually doesn't do much to convince people to be kind and maybe even makes the people who think they can protect themselves by being horrid think that they have a point.

"Everywhere I go I'll just meet normal people who most would think are decent and I will despise because of how they behave to me. And if I keep getting cheated…Well, I eat a lot and I don't know how long the silver will last. Especially since everyone will think that I stole it which I technically did but having been given it as a present afterwards cancels that out, I think. Well, that settles it. I'm going to go on the run. Being a fugitive is clearly the best way to be an honest man."

That decided, Valjean cheerfully ripped up his yellow ticket-of-leave and walked off whistling.

Review Please!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Several years later, a small town in the middle of nowhere proved to be quite unexpectedly important. It really was quite ordinary at first glance. The poor were singing together about how much they hated being poor and it was never going to get better but were grateful to have a job at all because things could always get worse.

"I just wish that the foreman wasn't in such a bad mood today," a blonde woman sighed.

"Well he's going to _stay_ in a bad mood until Fantine finally just gives in and sleeps with him," a brunette woman said matter-of-factly.

"I think she's perfectly horrid to keep refusing him for so long," the blonde sniffed. "Why doesn't she think about somebody else for a change? This bad mood of the foreman's is really making life difficult for everyone else."

"Oh, I quite agree," the brunette said, nodding. "And he'll only even fire her if she gets pregnant or someone new comes along. As it is, she's resisting so much he might end up firing her just out of frustration."

A redheaded woman hesitantly spoke up. "Do you think that maybe we should tell the boss that his foreman is a sexual predator? I mean, he insists on separating the sexes so this kind of thing can't happen and then look what his foreman does!"

"Oh, you're so naïve," the brunette said almost pityingly. "Clearly he knows all about the foreman's indiscretions."

Still, the redhead persisted. "Are you sure? Because he really doesn't seem like the type."

"_Every _man is the type," the blonde declared. "And why shouldn't our mayor know? Everybody else in town does."

Fantine herself walked by then, reading a letter.

The blonde deftly snatched it from her hand. "Oh, let's see! Hey, girls, listen to this!"

"I'm not sure I even want to," the brunette said, pursing her lips. "What kind of person just randomly steals another person's letter?"

"Yeah," the redhead agreed. "That's just not normal behavior. And what, do we have to worry about you stealing our letters one of these days?"

"Thank you," Fantine said gratefully.

But the blonde wasn't done. She would have her bit of fun and save face no matter what kind of havoc her moment of diversion would cause. "But look! It says that she has a _child_. We know of no child living here. Although the brat is apparently dying so maybe she won't have a child for very much longer."

"No one's perfect," Fantine defended. "And certainly not you! 'Let he who is without sin' and whatnot. And how dare you wish my child dead!"

The two began to struggle in earnest and, as is customary when such things occur, everyone around them immediately stopped whatever it was that they happened to be doing to encircle the two women and cheer them on.

Valjean just happened to be touring the factory at the time and came over to see what all of the commotion was about. He looked much better than he did after his release from jail. Being a fugitive had indeed been good for him, far better than admitting what he was had been. By lying, he had somehow managed to become an honest man. Except for the part where he didn't lie to people. It was a work in progress.

"Oh, will someone tear these two apart?" he asked no one in particular. "I'd do it myself but I don't want to hurt them stopping them from hurting each other. That would just be painfully ironic, you see. And I am the owner of this respectable factory and mayor of this town, anyway, so I should be able to delegate!"

"Why do you think he always reminds everybody that he's the mayor and factory-owner?" the redhead wondered quietly.

The brunette shrugged. "Who knows? But it is all quite true so let him say it."

The foreman roughly separated them.

"Gently!" Valjean requested belatedly, wincing.

"Now what happened?" the foreman demanded.

"It's all Fantine's fault," the blonde claimed.

"The hell it is!" Fantine argued. "You stole my letter and were telling everyone about it and insulting me!"

"Well…that is true," the blonde admitted. "But you started it by even _having _a letter in the first place! What was I supposed to do?"

"Have some basic impulse control?" Fantine helpfully suggested.

"Besides, she has a child in some little town and she has to pay some guy for it," the blonde continued, ignoring her. "Clearly this must mean that she's hiding the child because the child is a bastard and it further means that she must be sleeping with every other man who looks at her except for our dear foreman because she's a slut and needs money."

"Despite the fact that sleeping with the foreman would be the smartest thing to do if she's going to be sleeping with any man since he has the power to ruin her life, I agree that Fantine must be sleeping with everyone _but _him," the brunette spoke up.

"I'm really not!" Fantine tried to defend herself but it was too late. "Monsieur Madeleine, you believe me, don't you?"

But Valjean, trusting that his foreman would take care of the matter appropriately, had already moved on. "My, what a clean factory this is!"

"Enough of your lies, you whore," the foreman ordered. "I was already going to fire you because you would not sleep with me so I'm just moving that date up a little. Get the hell out of my factory!"

"It's not even your factory!" Fantine burst out, clearly trying not to cry.

The foreman glanced over at Valjean. "Excuse me, boss, do you care if I fire this harlot?"

Valjean didn't look up.

The foreman shrugged. "Evidently not. Now be gone! Now, I'm not saying that I'm opposed to sleeping with you since you're clearly offering but you shall not sully this virginal factory!"

Everyone cheered and Fantine ran for the door.

"Why exactly did we just ruin Fantine's life again?" the brunette wondered.

The blonde shrugged. "Oh, who even knows? But it sure breaks up the monotony, doesn't it? It's all harmless."

Valjean, having completed his inspection, turned his attention back to the celebrating crowd. "What just happened? I could have sworn I heard my name…Well, they all look so happy that I'm sure it is nothing."

* * *

Fantine returned home after a long, hard day of trying to find honest work.

"It's ridiculous," she said, shaking her head. "Five years of never so much looking a man's way and I have _one _illegitimate child and suddenly I'm sleeping with everybody! They can't possibly even know that I'm not a widow anyway. That's certainly what I told her guardians. But if the foreman fired me and that factory gives a job to _everyone _then no one else will have me. I have two options here. I can become a thief or a prostitute. I would rather die than do either personally but this isn't about me. Well, stealing might keep _me_ fed but it won't do anything for Cosette even if thievery is slightly more respectable than my other option. Still, at least prostitution is legal…"

* * *

Later on, Fantine – having sold her hair and several teeth and whatever else she could – was standing on a street corner with the other prostitutes trying to simultaneously attract customers and pretend that she wasn't there. Those weren't really compatible objectives and so it was rather energy-consuming.

A man on the street, Bamatabois, came up to her then. He was a rather bitter and mean-spirited man, largely because of his ridiculous name. "Hey look! A new 'lady of the night'! Oh, it's Christmas!" He immediately began to try to pull Fantine's dress down.

She kicked him and pulled back. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sampling the merchandise," he said matter-of-factly. "Although we will not actually be _doing the deed _right here in public – I do have _some _shame though God knows you don't – I am still entitled to see what I'm purchasing before actually purchasing it."

"Well go 'purchase' someone else, you animal!" Fantine cried out.

Bamatabois tsked at her. "Oh, no. You're just a prostitute. You have sex for money so you don't get to decide if you're going to have sex when someone offers you money. I could come up to you at any hour of any day, even in your own home, and give you money and you would have to have sex with me. Everyone knows that's how it works."

"That's actually not how it works," Javert said, coming up behind him. "Prostitutes are salesmen of a sort and as such they have to approve of the sale."

"But she's a _prostitute_," Bamatabois whined.

"It is the law," Javert said, unmoved. "Now was there some other problem or…?"

Bamatabois's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, yes there was."

Fantine could see where his mind was heading. "Please don't report me! I'll do anything you want."

Bamatabois looked at her patronizingly. "It's a little late for that, don't you think? Javert, I was just walking by – I never frequent prostitutes, as you well know – and this vicious little whore just up and attacked me! She kicked me! She punched me! She _bit _me!"

"Oh, I did not!" Fantine countered angrily. "Well, I mean yes I did kick him but he was trying to rape me."

"It's not rape if it's a prostitute," Bamatabois said knowingly.

Javert sighed again. "Really, monsieur, your understanding of the law is atrocious. It _is _rape if she says no and you force yourself upon her. Although given her profession and conventional attitudes, it is a lot harder to prove such a case. Besides, I thought you weren't out to solicit her services?"

Bamatabois coughed. "Oh right, I wasn't. But look at my arm! I have a bite-mark!" He shoved his arm in Javert's face.

"I can't see a thing with your sleeve in my eyes," Javert told him, trying to back away.

"Oh, right," Bamatabois said sheepishly. He pulled back long enough for Javert to breathe a sigh of relief before shoving his arm back in Javert's face, this time with his sleeves pushed up.

"Not exactly what I meant…" Javert said, annoyed.

"Well if his arm _is _bitten then I had nothing to do with it," Fantine insisted, shivering.

"It's not," Javert replied.

"It is!" Bamatabois insisted. He glared at Javert. "Are you calling me a liar? Are the two of you in this together? _Is she your mistress_?"

Javert's irritation did not abate. "I'm not calling you anything. You simply do not have a bite mark and if you did I would be able to see it by now. And if she _were _my mistress she wouldn't be out here on the streets now would she?"

Suddenly solicitous, Bamatabois shook his head. "You can never tell with prostitutes."

"Look, I don't mean to be rude but can we move this along one way or another?" Fantine requested. "I think the presence of a police inspector is scaring off the non-raping clients."

"She's right," one of the other women spoke up.

"Yes, by all means arrest this vile whore!" Bamatabois said, brightening considerably. "And then you can go away and I can…do something that's _not _having sex with one of these other women."

Javert looked to Fantine.

"He tried to rape me," she said again. "I know that assault is assault but this was strict self-defense."

"Well, fortunately for us all we have plenty of witnesses-" Javert started to say. He looked around. They were all asleep. "Weren't they awake just a minute ago?"

"No, we missed the whole thing," one of them murmured in her sleep.

"Well then I'm sorry but I don't know what I can do," Javert said apologetically. "It's your word against his but, unlike with him, the allegations of your assault have been confirmed…by you."

Bamatabois tripped over himself trying to shove his leg (with the pants pulled up this time so he was learning) in Javert's face.

Javert held up a hand, looking almost desperate. "That's quite enough of that! Now, while it is quite unfortunate since I think you're probably right about what happened, I must arrest you for assault."

"But you believe me!" Fantine cried out, astonished.

"It is the law," Javert said simply. "It knows better than we do."

"So if the law was changed right now to say that a man should be shot the moment anyone claims he was trying to rape them, proof or no, you would happily execute that pig on the spot?" Fantine challenged.

Javert nodded. "But of course."

Fantine gaped at him. "Well…at least you're consistent…"

"Now, in this case I can even see how the law may help you as well as punish you," Javert announced. "You will be imprisoned for six months where you will not starve to death or have to debase yourself in this way and hopefully by the end of that term you will have thought of a better way to live."

But Fantine was shaking her head. "Oh, no, Inspector. I can see that you are trying to be kind but it's not me that I am worried about. If it were just me then none of this would have ever happened. I have a daughter, you see, and she is very sick so I need the money."

Javert looked at her strangely. "Your daughter gets sick one time and you are forced to turn to prostitution? In my limited experience, children get sick more than once a childhood."

"Well, she's been sick nonstop for the past five years," Fantine admitted. "Previously my salary at the factory was enough to pay for that but since I've been fired…It's been difficult."

Javert shook his head in bemusement. "What is wrong with her?"

Fantine shrugged. "I do not know. But she is deathly ill."

"No child can live and be deathly ill for five years. It just doesn't happen," Javert declared. "Either you are lying to me or they are lying to you."

Fantine's still somewhat innocent eyes widened in disbelief and she shook her head. "Oh, I'm sure they wouldn't do that! They're good people. I saw them for an entire hour with two little girls my Cosette's age before I entrusted her to them until she is grown!"

"I…see," Javert's tone made it clear what he thought of such carelessness. "Well, I'm sorry, as I said, but the law is the law."

"You can at least _pretend _to be enjoying this, for my sake," Bamatabois grumbled.

Javert turned to him, looking like he wanted very much to strike Bamatabois himself. "Go away."

Something in his eyes seemed to scare Bamatabois and so off he scampered.

"Excuse me, Javert," Valjean said, approaching the pair then.

The prostitutes all 'woke up' then and tried to catch his attention but, as usual, he seemed to simply not even see them. Nowadays they more competed over who could get his attention first rather than who would actually get him to pay to go with them.

"Yes, Monsieur le maire?" Javert asked, tiredly. It seemed that he and the mayor could not be in the same room – so to speak – for two minutes without somehow bickering.

"I believe this woman's story," Valjean declared boldly.

"Wait, were you just standing there this whole time watching everything and not actually doing anything until the situation was under control?" Javert asked, shocked.

"…That is entirely possible," Valjean admitted.

Javert sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Of _course_ you did. Now look, it's very touching that you believe her story but it's all rather beside the point. The law is the law and the law says that motives are irrelevant. She did the crime and so-"

"I'll have to do the time?" Fantine cut in.

Javert blinked. "That was not actually what I was going to say. I dislike rhymes, you see. You must be punished for your infraction. It is the law."

Valjean rolled his eyes. "The same law that would sentence a man to nineteen years for one lousy loaf of bread."

"It was five for that _and _a broken windowpane," Javert corrected automatically. "The rest were for escapes. But how did you happen to hear about that?"

"I…didn't," Valjean said, looking shifty.

"But you _just said-_" Javert started to say.

"Listen, this woman here-"

"Fantine," Fantine helpfully introduced.

Valjean nodded. "Right, Fantine, she needs a doctor and not a jail."

"In jail her medical bills would be paid for by the government," Javert pointed out.

Valjean snorted. "Please. I've seen the medical care provided at Toulon."

"That is a men's prison for worse infractions than kicking a rapist," Javert argued. He paused. "And when, exactly, did you have occasion to-"

But again, Valjean interrupted him. "I think I've seen you before. This town is such an idyllic paradise so how is it that you came to be a prostitute here?"

"He never bothers asking the rest of us," one of the other prostitutes complained.

"Well we weren't as pretty as Fantine was before she sold her looks," another one reasoned.

Fantine laughed harshly. "Oh, monsieur, please don't say that. You are either mocking me or…well, the alternative is even worse."

Valjean was puzzled. "What alternative?"

"You were there the day that your foreman fired me and told everyone that I was a prostitute so no one hired me so I was forced to come to this," Fantine accused. "You were _right there_ and you did nothing!"

Valjean frowned. "I really don't remember this."

"That doesn't make it better!" Fantine cried out.

"Well, I suppose that's that then," Valjean said, nodding resolutely.

"Yes, by all means just walk away again," Fantine bit out bitterly.

Valjean shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm going to personally nurse you back to health myself. In my house and not a jail cell."

"You can't just do that!" protested Javert.

"I think you'll find that, as mayor, I can do whatever I want," Valjean argued.

"But the _law_," Javert said emphatically.

"The law doesn't provide for people in a position of power to do whatever they want?" Valjean asked disbelievingly. "And do keep in mind that by arresting her you'll only waste my time when I come to spring her later. I mean, legally get her released into my custody. But not really. It's been awhile since I helped plot an escape."

Javert hesitated. "Well, that's a bit of a gray area…"

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Valjean blinked as something caught his attention. "Is this a runaway cart?"

It was. And it had attracted everyone's attention as a large crowd had come to gather around where the cart had finally stopped.

"Monsieur Fauchelevant has been trapped!" someone cried out.

"Help please," Fauchelevant requested, his voice muffled from being trapped under the cart.

Valjean promptly took off his jacket and handed it to someone to hold. "Now, who will help me move the cart?"

"If you so much as touch it, it will collapse and kill you, too!" someone cried out.

Valjean inspected the cart critically. "No, no. I've worked with heavy objects before and I know what is and is not stable. I'm not saying that nothing will make this collapse, of course, but merely touching it won't. Now, any volunteers?"

There was a sudden silence.

"I don't want to die!" someone whimpered.

Valjean sighed. "I guess not." By himself, he lifted the cart from Fauchelevant and allowed the old man to climb out.

"Well now I feel just silly for not helping," one of the townspeople said, abashed. "There probably would have been a reward in it for me, too."

Hearing this and wishing to inspire more helpful behavior in the future, Valjean nodded. "There really would have been and it would have been quite handsome."

Suddenly he was tackled by Fauchelevant who appeared to be trying to hug him. "Thank you so much! You're a saint! I regret everything bad I ever thought about you for being an uppity nobody who made good while the rest of us had to work for a living!"

"I…wasn't actually aware that you thought anything like that," Valjean said uncomfortably, trying to pry the old man off of him.

"Well I did," Fauchelevant confirmed, evidently unable to take a hint.

"Well, um, I forgive you, I suppose," Valjean said awkwardly.

Javert was watching him suspiciously.

Sighing, when he finally managed to dislodge Fauchelevant, Valjean made his way over to the Inspector. "What?"

"You know, it's just strange. I've only seen a man that strong once in my life and he was quite a bit younger than you. He'd be about your age now, I suppose," Javert said thoughtfully.

"Why are you telling me this?" Valjean wondered.

"No reason," Javert lied. "It's just that he was a convict who broke parole quite a few years ago."

"And just what do I have to do with this Jean Valjean?" Valjean demanded.

"Nothing, nothing," Javert hastened to say. "Only that I think that you might possibly be him."

"Nonsense!" barked Valjean.

"Well, I never actually said his name," Javert pointed out.

"Yes you did," Valjean insisted.

"I really didn't. I know I didn't because that was a test," Javert explained. "And you didn't pass it."

"Well I don't see how I could know it if you didn't say it," Valjean said reasonably.

Javert's eye started twitching. "You could be Valjean."

"That is one possibility but I don't like that one," Valjean replied. "You must have at least been thinking it very loudly."

Javert stared at him. "Is that seriously what you're going to go with?"

Valjean nodded. "You know what, I think that I am."

Javert looked like he dearly wanted to say something but then, with difficultly, let it go. "I suppose you really _can't _be him."

"I can't?" Valjean asked, surprised. He coughed. "I mean, of course I can't. Perish the thought. So why can't I again?"

"It just so happens that the real Jean Valjean was recently arrested and he's coming to court this very day," Javert explained.

"That's impossible," Valjean protested.

"I assure you, it's quite true," Javert told him. "He denies it, of course, but what would you expect from a guilty man?" He paused. "Or an innocent one, for that matter, but at any rate his denial doesn't automatically clear him."

"Why hadn't I heard of this earlier?" Valjean wondered.

"I don't know, monsieur. I heard all about it," Javert replied. "I mean, I wasn't sure at first but they look extremely alike. Well, if you ignore the fact that the Valjean I knew wasn't a halfwit and this one appears to have suffered some form of brain damage. Or maybe he's just pretending. Who knows?"

Valjean, not wanting some innocent to suffer for the high crime of looking like him but not wanting to go back to prison either, cast his mind for some sort of objection. "Well, what of his brand? If he has the number '24601' on his chest then he is your man and if he does not then he is not."

"You seem to know an awful lot about this," Javert said mistrustfully.

Valjean coughed. "So, well, does he?"

"I am not sure," admitted Javert. "That was actually my first thought, too, but the magistrate is convinced that we can do the trial without 'cheating.' And I must confess that with the evidence so strong I am inclined to agree."

"_Cheating_?" Valjean couldn't believe it. "Are you serious?"

Javert shrugged. "He always was an odd one."

"What sort of evidence is there?" Valjean asked, curiously. "I mean, it can't just be that they look alike because Valjean never looked distinctive."

"Well, aside from looking almost identical, they are both the same age and tree pruners from Faverolles," Javert listed off. "And then there's the name!"

"He's going by Jean Valjean?" Valjean asked incredulously. He wasn't sure that he wanted to save someone that stupid; they'd probably just go impersonating another ex-convict and end up in the galleys soon enough.

Javert shook his head. "Not exactly but he might as well have. He's going by Champmathieu, you see."

"I'm...afraid that I do not see at all," Valjean admitted.

"Well, his mother's last name was Mathieu and since Valjean broke his parole, what would be more natural than going by his mother's name and becoming Jean Mathieu?" Javert asked rhetorically. "And with different dialects you can easily see how that could become Chan Mathieu and, finally, Champmathieu."

"I really don't see it at all," Valjean repeated. "But using the mother's name! Oh, that is brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?"

"I feel like I should ask but I know that the answer you give will just serve to frustrate me more and make me wonder if it's possible that Jean Valjean was somehow duplicated so there are two of you running around," Javert remarked.

"I realize that you might not be the best person to ask but you're the only person here right now," Valjean told him. "Is it better and less selfish to denounce myself as a convinct to save a man actually guilty of theft but not guilty of being me or to let him rot in the galleys but be able to sustain this town since without me everything would just collapse and hundreds of people would be out of work and Cosette will probably die on the streets?"

"I cannot say which is 'better'," Javert replied. "From a utilitarian perspective, saving hundreds of people at the cost of one already guilty man is the clear choice. From the legal standpoint, you would have to turn yourself in and to do anything else would be unconscionable. I believe what I would choose is clear."

"It is, thank you. Can you leave me, please?" Valjean requested. "I have to go angst for awhile about whether or not to tell everyone that I'm actually Jean Valjean even though I really don't want to because being free is wonderful and being a wealthy mayor is pretty nice as well."

Javert inclined his head respectfully. "Certainly. And you should think of firing me, too, since I thought you were a convict."

Valjean had a funny expression on his face. "We'll…talk about it later."

* * *

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to just tell everyone (including Javert who would not be stunned into inaction for long) that he was actually Jean Valjean and was going to the hospital if anyone wanted to find him but, well, that's what happened. It was just that he had just been so frustrated by everyone's strange refusal to just see that poor man's lack of a brand (or at least lack of _his _brand). And they didn't even look anything alike! This person who was supposed to be him was at least two feet shorter than him and black!

But now everyone knew the truth so he'd have to go on the run. It was a good thing he'd started preparing to leave at a moment's notice the moment Javert had first come to town. Now to just settle things somehow with Fantine.

"I had best not tell her why I'm leaving," Valjean reasoned as he approached her room. For once, gossip did not travel faster than light as he didn't have to face any stares or whispers upon his return from court. He cherished that even as he hurried along because God knew that it wouldn't last. "The shock very well might literally kill her. Or maybe I'm just being melodramatic…"

He knocked on her door. "Fantine, I have some bad news. You see, I…" He trailed off. Fantine had definitely taken a turn for the worse since that morning. She looked rather feverish. He had seen enough of death in prison to know that she wouldn't be long for the world. But would he have enough time to wait at her bedside before she died? It seemed cruel to wish someone to die faster so as not to inconvenience him but, on the other hand, if she took too long dying then Javert would come and drag him away anyway. And since the only reason Fantine was not in jail was because of him, Javert would probably throw her corpse in prison, too.

"Cosette, it's really cold," Fantine murmured.

Cosette? Was that the child? Did she think she was here?

"I'm sure she's fine, Fantine," Valjean said, trying to be reassuring.

"I'm going to die and she's cold and what's going to happen to her now? She's already always dying," Fantine said desperately.

"Don't worry," Valjean said soothingly.

Fantine's cough sounded a little bit judgmental. "You just heard a litany of my problems and did I mention I'm dying? How can I not worry?"

"Well, I'm going to take Cosette and raise her and things will be fine," Valjean said brightly.

"Do you have _any _experience with children?" Fantine demanded.

"Not since I was arrested thirty years ago although at least there were seven children then," Valjean replied unthinkingly.

Fantine started. "_Wha-_"

"I've also got a lot of money and want to help so that should make it easier," Valjean said quickly.

"Well…okay," Fantine agreed reluctantly. "You still have that letter I gave you to release her into the care of the bearer?"

Valjean nodded. "Of course."

"Tell Cosette I love her," Fantine said simply.

Then, even though he knew very well how unwise it was, Valjean waited with her until the end.

Javert had excellent timing for, right when Valjean was about to leave, he arrived to take Valjean into custody.

"Thank goodness you did not arrive two minutes earlier and cause Fantine undue distress as she was dying!" Valjean exclaimed.

"I actually got here fifteen minutes ago," Javert corrected. "I just saw that that woman was so close to the end and did not wish to have her know that her savior was going to prison. It seemed cruel."

"Well...thank you," Valjean said uncomfortably.

"Of course, this decision was aided by the fact that there was but one exit to this room and I was stationed right outside of it and at the first sign that you were leaving, I was going to come in and arrest you," Javert added.

"As you did," Valjean replied, nodding.

"I was right!" Javert said triumphantly. "I will take this lesson to heart and never, ever doubt again no matter what 'facts' might say."

"You're fired."

Javert laughed. "Nice try but it's a little late for that."

"How ever did you mistake that man for me?" Valjean demanded. "I mean, _really_. I would have expected better from you."

Javert had the grace to look embarrassed. "It was rather dark in the room and he was sitting down and everyone was just so sure...I did ask for the lights to be turned on and for him to become part of a line-up but they seemed to think it was unnecessary and they had ultimate authority there. I'm glad that you revealed yourself or I would have been forced to spend a great deal of time trying to free that man."

Valjean was looking faintly horrified. "You would have done that?"

"But of course," Javert said simply. "It's hardly lawful to let the wrong man go to prison!"

"I can't believe that I'm going to say this but I really should have had more faith in the justice system," Valjean said, groaning.

"Well I _can _believe I'm saying that yes, you really should have," Javert replied. He felt a sudden impulse to not make Valjean regret his one moment of honesty. That would hardly encourage him to ever engage in proper behavior again now would it? Granted it wouldn't matter much since he was going straight back to the galleys for the rest of his natural life but, as a sworn defender of the law, he would rather not think that he ever made the problems _worse_. "Although, to be fair, there is no guarantee that I would have succeeded or that it would have been done within the next few years. Courts are notoriously reluctant to reverse their decisions, you know. They fear that admitting to making a mistake makes them look stupid and incompetent and resist such things strongly. You've saved a semi-innocent man from a terrible fate."

"A fate that I must now face," Valjean said bitterly.

Javert nodded. "You shouldn't have broken parole in the first place. If you had not then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"That was ten years ago!" Valean retorted.

"It was very wrong."

"It was my only chance to become an honest man," Valjean tried to explain.

Javert stared at him. "That doesn't even make any sense. You can't be an honest man if you're lying about your identity."

"You can't do it even more if everyone treats you like you're a convict."

"You could if you _really_ wanted to," Javert insisted. "Growing up, everyone thought that I would become a convict and yet it never happened."

"Well good for you but that doesn't help me now," Valjean said, rolling his eyes.

"And whose fault is that?" Javert asked rhetorically.

"Look, I understand that you want to arrest me and while I would really like to avoid that and have spent ten years hiding from the law, I _promise _that I will come back here if you let me do something," Valjean said earnestly.

"Oh, well if you _promise_," Javert said sardonically. "Well, out with it!"

"I need to go find Cosette and retrieve her. Something's wrong with her situation, you know that that's true," Valjean continued. "Please, I only need three days. I promised Fantine that I would look out for her."

"That's great but how are you supposed to raise an eight-year-old in three days?" Javert demanded. "_Think_!"

Valjean frowned. "That's actually a good point. I will have to consider. I suppose I can drop her off at a convent or something…"

"And I can't just let you wander off again!" Javert exclaimed. "No one in their right mind would come back! I know that I wouldn't come back!"

Valjean was floored. "What about the law?"

"This is a me from another universe where the law doesn't matter to me," Javert explained. "Otherwise how could I possibly be in a position where I had broken parole in the first place? I know it's hard to conceive of such a universe but I'm sure that it does, in fact, exist."

"Well I really will. You can trust me," Valjean said, smiling winningly.

Javert was unimpressed.

"Hey, I remembered your name!" Valjean told him.

Javert nodded. "And that will be very helpful for my evaluation once I get you back to jail..._Valjean_."

"You could come with me," Valjean offered, brightening.

"I'm far too busy for a road trip," Javert rejected. "And those have the disgusting potential for 'bonding.'"

"Well then I don't know what we're going to do," Valjean said, shrugging.

"I do!" Javert cried out. "You're coming with me and the child isn't your responsibility. She's better off without a convict anyway."

"The people raising her sound horrible!" Valjean objected.

"Her mother was clearly a terrible judge of character," Javert replied. "But child protection is really not my area."

"No, obsessing over people for _breaking parole_ and otherwise being honest and law-abiding citizens is," Valjean snarked.

Javert glared at him. "I have not been _obsessing _over you. I was just reminded of you when I heard about the one they thought was you and then again when I saw your monstrous strength."

"I would prefer you not use the word 'monstrous'," Valjean requested. "It's hurtful."

Javert ignored this. "And you can't be a criminal and a law-abiding citizen at the same time. It doesn't matter how you live most of your life, the one crime makes you a criminal by definition."

Valjean sighed. "Look, we've had this argument before regarding the thief thing and it's clear that we're just not going to come to an agreement. So I'll just be going and-"

"I will stop you!" Javert swore valiantly.

"I would not advise it," Valjean said honestly. "I'm fully prepared to kill you to get away if I have to."

"What happened to 'I'm a good person, really'?" Javert demanded. "Of course, I know that people don't change. They have a reason for doing what they do and very seldom does that reason change. You stole bread for your sister's children and if you had not been caught you would have stolen again. The next time Fantine needed money for her child she would have once more turned to prostitution. Most people don't have someone literally throwing money at them to get them to stop breaking the law and I am appalled at even having to do that in the first place! It might be one thing if going to prison were enough to scare people into becoming good but usually they leave far more iniquitous than they were when they entered. Regretfully, actually trying to reform our prison system is simply not a realistic prospect right now with the current state of society. That's why I keep applying to get rid of the parole system so that we may not release these monsters we create back upon an innocent society. Damn overcrowded jails…I was born in one, you know."

Valjean was taken aback. "No, actually I didn't know that. But why tell me?"

Javert shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. It just seemed like we've reached _that _point in our relationship where I can tell you these things."

"Well, okay then," Valjean said uncertainly. "Don't take this the wrong way but I hope to never see you again."

"How can I _not _take that the wrong way?" Javert demanded. "And you're not lea-"

He was cut off as Valjean hit him over the head and he was knocked unconscious.

Valjean spared a glance at his prone form. "He'll live."

* * *

Cosette moved about in rags, sweeping as fast as she could. "I really wish she'd give me a reasonable amount of time to do these chores! And that she'd stop purposefully making a mess so she'd be able to give me more to do…"

Madame Thénardier approached her with a malicious smile on her face. "Well if it isn't our little saint. You should stop pretending to be so 'awfully good' when it's all your fault your mother has stopped coughing up a fortune and you cost so much money! And we get _nothing _out of you! Utterly worthless."

Cosette just stared at her with big eyes.

"Oh, don't you look at me like that!" Madame Thénardier snapped. "I know what you're up to! Quick, Éponine, come over here and be beautiful so I can rub it in Cosette's face that she's not!"

Éponine came over to them and spun around prettily.

"See, that's what a proper lady looks like, not like you, you slut," Madame Thénardier said harshly. "Ugh. Your presence just distresses me. Go to the woods and get some water or something."

Cosette's eyes grew so large they hardly fit on her face. "B-but it's dark in the woods. And there are wolves!"

"Good. Maybe one of them will eat you and I'll have one less mouth to feed," Madame Thénardier said, pleased. "Now off you scoot!"

Terrified but knowing that she had no real choice, Cosette reluctantly took the bucket and went off on her way.

"Now, off to go rip off all of our customers," Madame Thénardier said, rubbing her hands together eagerly.

* * *

Valjean was traipsing through the woods heading towards the Thénardier inn when he came across little Cosette in the woods struggling with her bucket.

He automatically moved forward to help her. "Would you like me to carry that for you?"

Cosette blinked up at him. "Thank you, strange man."

"Don't be afraid," he said as the pair of them began to walk to the inn.

"I'm not," Cosette told him. "Can I go live with you?"

Valjean drew back. "You want to go live with me? But we've only just met!"

"I'm about two days away from just running away and living on the streets," Cosette replied. "So living with you would probably be an improvement."

"Are things that bad for you at home?" Valjean said, immediately sympathetic to her plight.

Cosette shook her head. "Oh, no. Things really are that bad for me at the inn."

Valjean looked closely at her. "Tell me, child, what's your name?"

"I am Cosette," Cosette introduced.

Valjean nodded to himself. "Well that's done. You don't look like you're dying and certainly not as if any of your mother's money – or mine, for that matter – has gone to you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cosette told him. "So can I come live with you?"

Briefly overcome with emotion that the beloved daughter Fantine had sacrificed herself to save was in such a state, Valjean nodded. "Of course you can. Let's just get back to the inn and let the Thénardiers know."

Cosette winced. "Oh, we'd be better off just leaving, trust me. They'll just rip you off."

"Well, as appealing as that sounds I'll have to settle any debts that your mother owed – though I very much doubt there are any real ones from the look of you – and the last thing I need right now is a kidnapping charge," Valjean explained.

Cosette looked at him carefully. "Are you running from the law?"

Valjean coughed. "No, of course not! But if you could try to keep a low profile until we get to Paris then that would be _great_."

They reached the inn then and Cosette shrank back.

Valjean knelt down and put a hand on her shoulder. "Now remember, whatever happens you are coming with me. I am taking you with me even if I have to kill everybody in this inn. I just hope it doesn't come to that and we can reach some other sort of agreement."

"I think you should probably just kill the Thénardiers," Cosette advised. "If you don't it will just come back to haunt you."

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Valjean told her, standing back up and leading her into the house.

"Hey look, the slut's back!" Madame Thénardier declared as she and her husband came over to the pair of them. "And it looks like she's brought a customer! Well, she might as well have done _something _right."

Valjean was shocked. "You call an eight-year-old child a slut?"

Thénardier nodded. "Yes, of course. Why?"

"Fantine really _was _a terrible judge of character, wasn't she?" Valjean asked, shaking his head.

Madame Thénardier peered suspiciously at him. "Fantine?"

"Yes, the child's mother. I have a note from her authorizing me to take her," Valjean explained, handing over the note.

"Well, I don't know, Fantine always was a little stupid," Thénardier said slowly. "How do we know that you're not a pervert out to molest little Colette?"

"Cosette," Madame Thénardier corrected.

"Whatever," he said indifferently.

"You don't," Valjean said curtly. He glanced at Cosette. "Though I swear to you that I'm not. I'll settle any debt you might care to invent and then I'd really like to hurry and be on my way."

"I resent the implication that we would cheat anyone!" Thénardier said with the indignation that only the truly dishonest can summon up.

"My apologies," Valjean said blandly. "How much would it take for you to let me leave here with her quietly?"

"But we just love Colette so much!" Thénardier protested. "We'd be so sad to lose her."

"Not so sad that you'd actually learn her name, however," Valjean murmured.

"Why do you want Cosette in the first place?" Madame Thénardier asked, honestly bewildered.

"Well, I may have accidentally gotten her mother killed," Valjean admitted.

Cosette glanced up sharply at this.

"It wasn't like that!" he hastened to explain. "I just let her get fired because you exist and later her life spiraled wildly out of control and she was forced to sell herself and died pitifully in a hospital…I'm really not helping matters, am I?"

"Not really," Cosette replied. "But I'd still rather go with you than stay here."

"And that is exactly why I have to take her. You people are terrible at raising children," Valjean accused.

"Oh, we're not that bad," Thénardier argued. "When we put our mind to it we can be quite good parents. Why, just look at Azelma and Éponine! And…the other one. What's his name?"

"I don't remember," Madame Thénardier admitted. "But he's crawling around somewhere unless someone stepped on him."

Valjean stared at them. "Right. Well, unless you give me a number then I'm just going to take Cosette and go."

Thénardier shrugged. "Tell you what. You give us fifteen hundred francs and we don't care _what _you do with her."

"Finally! Some honesty!" Valjean said, disgusted. He reached into his pockets and pulled out the requested money. "Goodbye."

He and Cosette headed out into the snow.

"This is a good day," Cosette declared.

"I really should have listened to you and just left," Valjean remarked.

Cosette nodded. "Oh, most definitely. But oh well. We're done with them now."

They were, yes, but a short while later Javert rode up to the inn.

"Where is Cosette?" he demanded.

"I knew we should have asked for more!" Madame Thénardier hissed. She cleared her throat. "Um, monsieur, I believe that she has gone for a walk. If you'll just sit down, maybe order something, we can wait for her to get back…"

Review Please!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

"Everything is so miserable here," Enjolras said sadly, watching as an old beggar woman and prostitute went at it. They were fighting over whether the prostitute gave pleasure to her customers or something silly like that. He never did understand why the oppressed had to try and tear each other down when society was already so successfully tearing them down as it was.

"Do you think that maybe we should do something?" Marius asked uncertainly. "I don't know, separate them or something?"

Enjolras shook his head. "Only a revolution could help the people like this."

"Ultimately, sure, but I still think we could provide a little shorter-term aid," Marius argued. "We could at least pull one of them off the other before there is bloodshed."

"You may help them if you choose, Marius, but I have a revolution to plot," Enjolras told him.

Faced with the prospect of having to do something decisive, Marius faltered. "Oh, well, I'm really not sure…But I don't need your permission!"

"And I didn't give it," Enjolras replied.

"You didn't?" Marius asked disappointed.

"I didn't _not _give it either," Enjolras tried to explain. "I'm just acknowledging that the choice is entirely in your hands."

"Oh joy," Marius said, looking a little green. He coughed. "I really wish Lamarque weren't going to die. He's a really proper people's hero."

Enjolras nodded. "Oh, indeed he is and his passing will be a sad thing indeed. Still, when I sit down and think about it objectively, divorcing it from emotion, I realize that perhaps this is for the best after all."

Marius drew back. "How can you say that?"

Enjolras held up a calming hand. "I'm just saying that once he's dead he can be a figure to rally around and we don't have to worry about such things as him disagreeing with us or failing to live up to his ideals. Once he's dead, everyone will automatically care more than when he was alive and any petty anger or grudges people might have nursed against him will seem meaningless. Once he's dead, he's a safer hero because we can twist his words and beliefs to suit our cause. Of course, the royalists can do the same but we know the truth."

Marius blinked, completely taken aback by Enjolras' words. "That's a little cynical, don't you think?"

Enjolras blushed. "Sorry. Too much time speaking with Grantaire. That may be _true _but it's not very inspirational leader-y of me to come out and say. Especially not to you. I should go find him…"

"Lamarque?" Marius asked, confused. Everyone knew where Lamarque was although how Enjolras thought he was just going to get into the hero's bedside was beyond him.

Enjolras gave him a strange look. "No, Grantaire. Lamarque will probably die within the week and then we really have to get our revolutionary plans in order."

"Hey," a young kid said, running up to them.

"Hello, Gavroche," Enjolras greeted him pleasantly. "Is something the matter?"

"I just wanted to warn you that my parents and sisters are on the prowl looking for people to steal from and lives to ruin," Gavroche told them, a little breathlessly. "It would be a shame if they got anywhere near your revolution. They'd probably ruin everything by stealing from you guys and the national guard alike! And I bet they wouldn't even get shot, either."

"Oh, Éponine's a good kid," Marius said dismissively. "And so are you for that matter! So how could your family possibly be any different?"

"I don't know," Gavroche replied. "Your grandfather is disturbingly royalist. How can you possibly be a man of the republic?"

"Between us, I sometimes doubt we're related," Marius replied, unconcerned. "I do, however, enjoy loudly discussing the possibility in front of him and waxing poetical about the Emperor. Hey, Enjolras, if I run away from home and decide not to be a baron one day then can I stay with you?"

"I thought you were staying with Courfeyrac," Gavroche said, surprised.

"Oh, I was," Marius answered, "but he just wouldn't stop bringing home girls at all hours of the day and my grandfather heard all about it and started getting hopeful that this meant that I was coming around on the matter of mistresses and so I just went back home."

Gavroche frowned. "I hadn't thought Courfeyrac was _that _interested in girls."

"Between us, I don't think he is," Marius confided. "He just thought wounding my grandfather up was funny, the prat."

"I don't care as long as it doesn't get in the way of the revolution," Enjolras replied distractedly.

Gavroche stared at him. "Did he actually hear you or…?"

Marius shrugged. "Oh, who knows? That's his answer to everything these days. Now excuse me while I go off and pick a fight with my grandfather to see if it's worth it to move in with him…"

* * *

"Alright, is everybody ready for our next robbery?" Thénardier inquired.

"You haven't told me what I'm supposed to do," Éponine reminded him. "Do I even need to be here?"

Thénardier frowned. " Um…well…I guess you can…Just hang around here and if I snap my fingers then start crying."

"I don't think I even have tear ducts anymore but I will try," Éponine said disinterestedly. "Oh look, it's Marius!"

"Oh look, it's that stupid student," Madame Thénardier said, spotting him at the same time her daughter did. While Éponine ran off to greet him, she complained, "All these would-be revolutionaries are crowding the street and drawing the eyes of the police and making it very difficult for an honest crook to get by. And _dear Éponine _worships one of them! She used to have beauty, she did, but she never did have a brain."

"Now now, dear, I know many a fellow who has gotten by just fine with no brain," her husband assured her. "It's just not healthy to have too much brain nowadays. You might decide to throw your lot in with the students and then who knows where you'll be?"

"Is it too late to decide against having children?" Madame Thénardier inquired.

"_Never_," Thénardier replied warmly. "But I'm keeping Azelma."

"Every good marriage is based on compromise," Madame Thénardier reasoned.

"Hello, Éponine," Marius greeted his friend after she fell into step besides him.

"Hello," she practically beamed at him. "Where are you off to?"

"I'm sulking because my grandfather refused to believe that I have a girlfriend and so wouldn't be baited into insulting her so I could storm off," Marius replied.

Éponine froze for a moment before asking. "But Marius, you _don't _have a girlfriend. Do you? Please say you don't. I love you."

"No I don't," Marius conceded. "But it's still insulting not to be believed. And why shouldn't I have a girlfriend? He doesn't know I don't have a girlfriend!"

"Except apparently he does," Éponine pointed out.

"That bastard," Marius growled. "I bet it's his fault that that old guy kept staring at me from behind a column every time we went to church."

"You had a stalker at church?" Éponine asked, trying to keep up with the many threads of conversation.

"That's neither here nor there," Marius said loftily. "But anyway, how have you been, Éponine?"

"My family is still robbing everyone in sight so I'd recommend you stay away from them," Éponine informed him. "Also, I love you."

"You know, your brother told me the same thing," Marius said thoughtfully.

Éponine did a double-take. "Gavroche loves you?"

Marius shook his head. "What? No, the other thing."

"Oh," Éponine said, relaxing. "Well, they are."

"It can't be that bad," Marius said carelessly.

Éponine took a deep breath. "Maybe this will convince you. I suspect they might be in league with your grandfather to…disbelieve you about things you are lying about. Or something."

"Those fiends!" Marius cried, outraged. "How could someone as wonderful as you come from such a place, Éponine?"

"I do wonder sometimes," she said wryly. "I wish I could be a student, you know. I might be a girl but I think I'd be good at it. I picked up reading really fast and all on my own, too!"

Marius laughed. "Oh, that's funny. The things you know aren't in books!"

Éponine looked a little annoyed. "That would be why I would read them. To learn the things in there. If I already knew them then there wouldn't be any point in studying from them, would there?"

Marius blinked. "I think you might be right!"

Éponine sighed. "You're lucky that you're cute."

"You say the strangest things sometimes," Marius replied.

"Still love you," Éponine told him. "This kind of reminds me of the first time we met, you know?"

"You mean when your family was holding that poor rich gentleman hostage until I brought the police in?" Marius asked rhetorically. He tilted his head. "Well...I alerted them to the problem a few hours earlier but never did actually signal for them. It was just so confusing whether I should let your father brutally murder some kindly old man since he saved my father's life that one time."

"You might be the only person on this planet who would think that that was a difficult choice," Éponine said flatly. "But we actually met the day before when you ran me over and accidentally got those letters from me. You never do notice crime running rampant around you until you're forced to."

"Alright, enough flirting," Thénardier said, coming over to them. "Come on, Éponine, we need your crying capabilities."

Marius looked confused. "Wait, what?"

"Don't worry about it," Éponine said, reluctantly allowing herself to be led away. "I just have to take part in this criminal enterprise. It'll be fine."

Marius was about to follow her and ask for more information when he caught sight of Cosette and just stood there staring at her.

Thénardier went up to the first nicely-dressed man he found and shoved Éponine in his face. "Look, this child hasn't eaten today! If you give us a lot of money she might survive!"

"I always give to everybody who asks me for money no matter who they are or how obvious their con is," Valjean said generously. "I just literally have more money than I know what to do with and with all those patents I develop, more wealth comes in every day."

Thénardier's eyes lit up. "Jackpot! Now what to accuse you of in order to get a hefty long-term financial commitment…Maybe paternity? No, Éponine has clearly never had a child. Maybe she could be that child? Oh, I wish we hadn't given those two boys away! Assault? But then we'd actually have to beat someone and have those medical bills…Maybe kidnapping…"

"Oh, I did _not _kidnap Cosette!" Valjean burst out. "You could argue that I bought her as a slave but I do not _keep _her as a slave and you would be in trouble for selling a small child anyway. Besides, it's only been two years that the slave trade could even be punished so my actions nine years ago are completely legal. Sort of. Go away."

Thénardier's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "So you're the bastard who borrowed Colette!"

"Cosette," Valjean corrected automatically. "And I didn't borrow her, I bought her even though her mother granted me custody. And furthermore, I've never even seen you before in my life!"

"You're confusing me," Thénardier admitted. "But I want more money!"

"It's the police!" Éponine cried out. "Everybody run."

Nobody moved.

"Oh, who cares?" Madame Thénardier asked.

"It's _Javert_!" she tried again.

Instant pandemonium as everyone ran for it.

"Why does that happen every time I go anywhere?" Javert wondered. "These people must have been up to something illegal." He spotted Marius, still standing there staring at the spot where Cosette had once stood. "Hey you! What happened?"

Marius snapped to attention. "Well you see, monsieur, there was this gorgeous girl and I think I'm in love."

Javert sighed impatiently. "Not the girl, the crime!"

"There was a crime?" Marius asked, alarmed. "Oh, I hope that girl won't be hurt by this!"

"You're useless," Javert said, dismissing him. He signaled for his men to arrest everyone still in the square except for Marius who, by virtue of having no idea what was going on, was probably innocent.

"This is absurd!" Thénardier complained as he was handcuffed. "Isn't it enough that you took my inn from me all those years ago?"

"I only did that because you were cheating and stealing from everybody most disgracefully and that is quite against the law," Javert said primly. "You really should have known better than to try that on me. I did quite clearly identify myself as a police officer."

"I'm not used to police officers actually being competent but I assure you that I do respect your police prowess now. I am curious how it is that you remember me, though," Thénardier told him. "It's understandable that _I_ remember _you_ since you ruined my life but I wouldn't have thought my arrest would stand out to you."

"It didn't," Javert explained. "I just remember every criminal I ever come across."

Thénardier looked a little perturbed. "Ever?"

"Ever," Javert confirmed.

"That's just...okay. But why are you arresting me now?" Thénardier demanded.

"You were involved in a public brawl and that is against the law," Javert explained. "That is always a serious offense and it is even more serious with all of this unrest."

"You should be arresting that guy I was arguing with," Thénardier sneered.

"I will arrest him if I can find him," Javert promised. "Do you have a description of him?"

"I wasn't paying attention to anything but his money," Thénardier admitted. "But hey, he was really rude to me. I bet he's a convict! I bet he has a brand on his chest."

Now Javert was intrigued. "Did you actually see this?"

"Well…no," Thénardier conceded. "But it's probably true! And he was talking about how much money he had and how he wanted to give it all away but that it was not humanly possible to give away that much money."

Javert frowned. "This might sound a little weird since it's been years since I last saw him but a convict actually having money and, what's more, desiring nothing more than to give it away? Once I would have dismissed that as lunacy but that sounds suspiciously like Jean Valjean. And that idiot boy was talking about a beautiful girl and I know he wanted to bring Cosette up. I hadn't paid much attention before her fall from grace, but Fantine was beautiful, I believe. I wonder…"

One of the other policemen coughed. "Inspector Javert, you know that we all fear and respect you very much, monsieur."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Javert said sourly.

"Look, we know that it was very hard on you when you completely failed to notice that you served for years with a convict for a superior," the policeman began.

"I didn't fail to notice! I told everybody and they said I was crazy! And my only sin was that I allowed 'facts' to dictate my beliefs," Javert said firmly.

"And you since have completely stopped doing so," the policeman murmured.

Javert smiled. "Thank you. I try."

"That wasn't a compliment…" the policeman started to say but then shook his head. "Never mind. We know that you took that very hard but it's been nine years. I think assuming that some random rich old guy who might or might not even be a convict and who you didn't even get a good look at must be Jean Valjean is just a little obsessive."

"I didn't say that it _must _be him," Javert argued. "Only that it _may _be. And, Valjean or not, he was involved in a street brawl so he must be arrested."

"One little street brawl that doesn't even matter when these men here – and that woman – were all arrested for robbery more than the brawl," the policeman countered. "Are you sure that that's the best use of police resources?"

"He broke the law," Javert said firmly. "And if he is Valjean then he broke parole, too, so that will be a very high-profile arrest."

"There is that," the policeman agreed reluctantly. "But he doesn't seem to have done anything illegal besides, well, not being where we know where he is and we've got a lot to deal with with these troublesome student groups so it really wouldn't be that high-profile. In fact, re-arresting him after failing for so long would just serve to remind the public about the convict that made us all look like damn fools for years on end. So, again, best use of police resources?"

"Absolutely," Javert said, nodding. "I firmly believe that I can manage to arrest each and every law-breaker to cross my path. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go rhapsodize about how wonderful and lawful I am and dream of hunting down Valjean. Book these vermin for me, will you?"

He wandered off and the policemen watched him go.

"I don't get it," another policeman said to the spokesperson. "Wasn't he arrested for stealing a loaf of bread or something? I mean, that was illegal but we're on the verge of a bloody revolution!"

"Don't try to reason with him," the first policeman advised. "Javert is _hard-core_."

* * *

"Cosette? Can it be a coincidence?" Éponine was asking herself once they'd finally stopped running. "She's so beautiful and elegant! A real lady! I just can't…_Cosette_? That's not even a real name so it can't be very common. My how our fortunes have reversed! The last time I saw her, I would have thought I'd have grown up like she and she like me!"

Marius was still starry-eyed. "That is the most perfect creature I've ever met!"

"All you know is that she's beautiful and probably well-brought up," Éponine pointed out. "And you might assume high-born but you'd be wrong. How can you know she's perfect?"

"I'm going to marry her," Marius declared.

"You don't even know her name!" Éponine burst out.

Marius seemed to suddenly realize that she was there. "Oh, of course. Her name. I need to know her name so that I may use it to plan our future together and tell everyone about her and ask my grandfather and her father about marrying her. And I should probably have an address, too, so that we may meet. It would probably be a good idea to speak to her before getting engaged."

"What if she doesn't like you?" Éponine asked.

Marius looked crestfallen. "You think she wouldn't like me?"

Éponine shook her head. "I can't imagine how she could not. You're perfect. I love you."

"I'm hardly perfect," Marius said, laughing self-consciously. "But I hope that my darling will think so! You'll find her for me, won't you, Éponine?"

"Me?" Éponine asked, surprised. "Why me? Why can't you find her?"

"Because of…reasons…" Marius said lamely.

Éponine sighed. "Fine. But I want money."

Marius immediately reached into his pockets and pulled out quite a bit of money.

"I don't want your damn money!" Éponine said, roughly pushing his hand away from her.

"But…you _just _said…" Marius said, bewildered.

"I mostly wanted the chance to reject the money and show you that I'm a true friend and must really love you to do this for you," Éponine explained.

Marius nodded. "Ah. Find out where she lives."

"I thought you wanted to know her name?" Éponine asked.

Marius considered it then shook his head. "No, I think I'd rather hear it from her. And don't let her father know you're looking for her on my behalf!"

Éponine was surprised. "Her father? Why not?"

Marius looked embarrassed. "Well…I think he might find me a bit creepy and stalker-ish for planning to marry his daughter before meeting her. He certainly didn't seem to like me six months ago and I have to wonder if their sudden move was really such a coincidence. As such, I'd like to know a little bit more about her before I reveal my existence to him. He might do something terribly sensible like bar me from seeing her or moving. Again."

"Yes, those terribly sensible fathers," Éponine said sarcastically. She turned suddenly pensive. "I wish I had one…"

Review Please!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Note: Javert hasn't literally stopped believing in facts, he's just stopped doubting himself. Valjean ultimately escaped because he let 'facts' like Champmathieu being Valjean cause him to change his mind and mistrust his instincts. Now, if he thinks he has a fugitive, he will not let a dozen witnesses convince him otherwise.

The ABC society was full of patriotic fervor and hard at work plotting their upcoming revolution when Marius floated in.

"Marius, you're late," Enjolras said, sounding disappointed.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Joly diagnosed. "Quick, tell me all about it!"

"He just needs a drink," Grantaire disagreed.

"That's your solution for _everything_," Enjolras said, a little reproachfully. "Just drink it away."

Grantaire downed his own drink. "That is true. But what can I say? It's simple, easy to remember, and cost effective! Unless the problem is that you drink too much but then that's even cheaper!"

"Why are you even here?" Enjolras demanded.

"Someone else buys the wine!" Grantaire cheered. "Besides, I like staring at you and listening to you believe in things."

Enjolras sighed. "Are you even coming for our revolution?"

"That depends if anyone reminds me when it is," Grantaire said honestly.

"We'll think about it," Enjolras replied. "Well, Marius, why were you late?"

"I just saw the most _beautiful _girl ever!" Marius gushed.

"What's her name?" Courfeyrac asked.

"I…don't know," Marius admitted. "But I'm in love!"

"How can you be in love if you don't even know her name?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Éponine is working on it!" Marius said defensively.

"Do you even care?" Grantaire asked.

"Well…no," Courfeyrac conceded. "But as his best friend I really should make an effort to pretend."

Combeferre laughed. "Now that is friendship!"

"No one cares about your girl troubles, Marius," Enjolras said sternly. "We are plotting a revolution!"

"They aren't _troubles_," Marius argued. "I mean, just because this is the first time I've seen her in months and before that we just used to kind of stare at each other every day in the park until her father noticed and I never spoke to her and don't know her name or where she lives doesn't mean I have troubles. We're getting married."

"I feel like you're drunker than I am," Grantaire said, peering closely at Marius.

"Let's get back to business," Enjolras said loudly. "We have to, each of us, decide where we stand on this. This is very dangerous and we very well all might get killed, even should we win. Remember our colors: red the color of angry men and black the night that ends at last!"

"That's too dreary," Marius complained. "How about red like the deep and abiding love I am in with my darling and black like the deep and abiding despair I am in every second that I am not with her?"

"Marius!" Enjolras exclaimed. "Stop ruining our grand revolution planning with your silly little Romeo and Juliet fantasy. We only have so much time to work out the details before we must act."

"Romeo and Juliet?" Marius repeated dreamily. "It sounds so romantic…"

"It's not. Everyone dies and it's stupid because she wasn't even dead," Grantaire assured him. "Plus she was like thirteen so that's not okay."

"Well, you have to remember when it was written," Combeferre interjected.

"No I don't," Grantaire disagreed, shaking his head. "The guy married a thirteen-year-old and that is just as creepy now as it was back then. I can only hope that he was too much of an idiot to know how to sleep with her. It would not surprise me if he were."

"I can kind of see him in Marius, though," Courfeyrac said slowly.

Grantaire looked again. "By God, you might be right!"

"Don't kill yourself, Marius," Courfeyrac commanded.

Marius was puzzled. "What? Why would I kill myself? I'm in love!"

"And so it starts," Grantaire said with a sigh, ordering another drink.

"That's really quite enough," Enjolras snapped. "Marius, you're being more distracting today than Grantaire and that is a problem."

"Me?" Marius felt unjustly persecuted. "They're the ones who keep talking about my love life!"

"And you introduced the topic," Enjolras pointed out. "Now will everyone settle down or do you want to stop being a revolutionary society and instead go out and plan Marius' wedding?"

"I vote for the wedding!" Marius said excitedly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Just…sit down and try not to be too obnoxiously in love."

Gavroche burst in then. "Hey, guys, I have important news!"

Enjolras looked as if he wanted to throttle the child but restrained himself. "What now?"

"General Lamarque is dead!" Gavroche declared. He waited in expectant silence as the news sunk in and then pandemonium broke out. "This really is fun. Man do I love being the one to singlehandedly tell half of Paris all the exciting news!"

He scampered off and it was some minutes before Enjolras was able to calm them all down.

"The people's hero...dead. I can't believe it. This is terrible," Enjolras sounded genuinely sad for a moment before brightening. "Right, then, we have our revolutionary date! This is fantastic! What a wonderful symbol! We shall strike on the date of Lamarque's funeral since that will be the most odious time for the king to pretend that he's _their _hero."

The others nodded their agreement.

"Let's go over the gun numbers one more time and then…" He trailed off and sighed. Grantaire was waving his hand in the air even after he had already been given three more drinks. "Yes, Grantaire?"

"I'm just not feeling like I'm in the proper mindset to properly plan an actual revolution where we will actually be doing something," Grantaire explained.

"You never are," Enjolras said through gritted teeth. "What was it that you wanted?"

Grantaire stood with a flourish and began passing papers to everybody.

Enjolras looked down at the one in his own hand. "Do you hear the people sing?"

Grantaire nodded. "I think that we need our own anthem. Marius agrees with me."

* * *

"I must confess," Cosette said, standing in the garden and addressing the birds that were gathered there, "that I'm not quite sure how this is supposed to go. There were no men in the convent save my father and uncle and we don't meet many people now that we've left it. I've never really seen love firsthand but all of my books assure me that love at first sight is perfectly acceptable. Maybe I don't know his name or anything about him or even if he likes me. I don't know if I'll ever see him again. But in books things always work out so I'm sure that fate will conspire to throw us together once again and we'll get married and live happily ever after." She paused. "Not that I'm not happy _now_, of course, but sooner or later I will need to get married and I think I love him so why not marry him? Assuming he's not married, of course. Sometimes those things happen in books, especially if his wife is crazy or something. Oh, I wish I knew!"

Valjean came outside then. "Oh, Cosette, talking to yourself. You're clearly either very crazy or very lonely and I know which one I'd like to believe. I really wish that you could have some friends your own age and not have to just spend all your time with me but, well, I'll probably be rearrested and thrown back into Toulon if that were the case and then where would you be? Probably out on the streets."

"I wouldn't mind the near complete isolation so much if I only knew why it was," Cosette said earnestly. "But you never tell me anything!"

"I tell you plenty of things," Valjean disagreed. "You just never listen. Truth is given to us by God in our time."

"I think that maybe you, as the person who knows the truth and will not tell me, have a little something to do with it as well. Why do you always immediately leave when you see a police officer and have a brand on your chest and why do we never talk to anybody? And why won't you tell me anything about my past? I for one would really like to know why I was living with those monsters the Thénardiers and why you came to save me and, well, anything else at all, really. You love me, I know, and you're so good but you act like I'm still eight," Cosette complained.

"No, I don't," Valjean said automatically. "Now would you like to go for a walk with me like a big girl?"

Cosette sighed and took her father's arm. "Very well."

"Oh, how you have recovered, my dear Cosette!" Valjean said fondly. "I do not know how it is that you remember nothing before coming to the convent but I am grateful for it every day. For if you knew the truth, you would surely not survive!"

"I actually remember all about that time," Cosette tried to tell him. "And it was hard at first but it's been so many years now that I think I'm okay."

Valjean nodded to himself. "You are just so delicate…"

* * *

"Are you _sure _standing here and staring at her door waiting for her to get back isn't making you feel like a creepy stalker?" Éponine asked uncertainly. "Because I've got to tell you, it's making _me_ feel like a creepy stalker."

"Not in the slightest" Marius announced. "Thank you so much for finding my one true love for me, Éponine. You really are a great friend. You're the friendiest friend I've ever had, you know."

"Yeah, I'm really getting that vibe," Éponine said, forcing a smile. "You know, I actually knew Cos-"

"Don't tell me her name!" Marius interrupted. "I mean, I know that it is Ursule but I want to be surprised when she tells me."

"Ursule?" Éponine asked, flabbergasted. "Why do you think her name is Ursule?"

Marius shrugged. "Just a feeling but it is a feeling born of true love so it must be right!" He hesitated. "And then there's the fact that I saw a handkerchief one day around where she and her father were walking and it said 'U.F.' on it. If it weren't true love I might have thought it was her father's or a completely unrelated stranger's! And everyone knows that 'Ursule' is the only female name starting with a 'U.'"

"It's actually not 'Ursule' but you'll find that out soon enough and maybe this will ruin your chances," Éponine said, trying to be optimistic. "But anyway, she actually lived with my family for awhile as a child."

Marius looked properly interested in this. "Really? What happened?"

"She…wasn't…" Éponine trailed off, wondering how to put it without making her family out to be abusive monsters. "Happy. She wasn't happy there and after her mother died her father came to get her and took her to live with him. I've been asking about him, too."

"And?" Marius asked eagerly.

"Some kind of saint," Éponine informed him.

Marius' shoulders slumped. "Damn."

"That's a bad thing?" Éponine didn't get it.

"Only if he disapproves of me and the more moral a man is the higher his standards are," Marius replied. "Oh look, that's them!"

The pair hid themselves until Valjean and Cosette were safely situated inside and then Cosette came out to the garden again.

"Goodbye, Éponine," Marius remembered to say but only just. "Wish me luck!"

"Good luck!" she called out obligingly. "Love me!"

"Um…hi," Marius said shyly as he approached Cosette. "I think I may love you. No, wait, don't say that! It's too soon, she'll think you're weird. And stop it with the external monologue, too. That's really not helping. Sorry, I just…My name is Marius. Who are you?"

"I'm Cosette," she said, smiling, charmed by his awkwardness.

"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to get your father or a policeman or even just a pistol and made me go away yourself," Marius admitted. "I'm no good at this. I've never been in love before, you see, and frankly I don't think I'll ever be in love again. You're just the most wonderful creature ever and there is not a day that has gone by, or even an hour really, where I have not thought about you since that day that our eyes met and I fell in love with you. And I do hope you don't take 'creature' as an insult because it really wasn't meant to be and I just…Please say something. Anything even if it's to tell me to go away although, honestly, I'd rather not hear that from you."

"I won't tell you to go away," Cosette promised him. "I rather like you, I think."

"Do you think you could ever love me?" Marius asked eagerly.

Cosette shrugged lightly, a teasing smile on her lips. "We shall just have to see now won't we?"

* * *

Éponine watched them and struggled not to feel sick.

"He's not your boyfriend, Éponine. Remember that. He never was and no matter how many times you literally shout your love to him he probably won't ever notice. And love is about wanting the person you love to be happy even if they are happy with someone they are literally just now actually meeting. And even if it weren't for Cosette he still wouldn't love me anyway so at least this way I can pretend that if she weren't in the picture I'd have a chance."

She wasn't sure how long she stood there watching them being nauseatingly cute before she suddenly spotted someone very familiar.

"'Parnasse? What are you doing here?" Éponine asked, surprised. "Seriously, Paris is not that small so why do all these unlikely encounters keep taking place?"

"Oh, well, your father bribed his way out of prison and now he needs more money and the guy who lives here just happens to be the really rich guy from the other day," Montparnasse explained. "Your father figures that he owes him because it was that guy's fault that your father got arrested and had to spend all that money in the first place. Plus he just really likes robbing rich people. And who knows? This guy might even be a convict!"

"A convict, indeed!" Éponine scoffed. "There's no proof of that. And when is the attack going to take place?"

Montparnasse shrugged. "Oh, who knows? The next ten, fifteen minutes. You should help since you're here."

"You can't attack right now! I just led Marius here and if you attack and he's here then he might think I'm involved with criminals!" Éponine burst out.

The look Montparnasse gave her was deeply unimpressed.

"Well, yes, I know that I'm involved with criminals. Of course I know that and, to be fair, I haven't exactly tried to hide it. Marius just…doesn't always pay attention to these things," Éponine said awkwardly. "And what a way for him to find out besides!"

"Well there's really nothing you can do," Montparnasse said indifferently.

"I'll think of something," Éponine said determinedly.

"So..." Montparnasse said casually. "Do you want to meet up later for some nice hate sex?"

Éponine glared at him. "Go away. I'm busy."

"That's not a no," Montparnasse said pointedly.

Éponine's glare deepened. "_No_."

"Oh, come on! I'll let you pretend I'm that poncy poet," Montparnasse wheedled.

"I am not _nearly _drunk enough for this," Éponine declared before promptly ignoring him.

"Now, I don't actually know if he is a convict or not," Thénardier conceded. "But I do know that ten years ago that _bastard_ took the unwanted child that I was about to turn out off my hands for exactly the excessive price that I asked for and I shall never forgive him for it!"

"That doesn't even make any sense," one of his men complained. "It sounds like he did you a favor and made you rich to boot."

"Well I'm not _still _rich, am I?" Thénardier demanded. "And he is! And the point is that I want his damn money!"

"That I can get behind," the man remarked.

Éponine came closer and caught Thénardier's attention. "Okay, who invited the whore?"

Éponine sighed. "It's me, father. Your child."

"You're not Azelma," Thénardier said bluntly.

"I'm the other one. Éponine," she reminded him. "You know, the one you make cry to get people's sympathies so you can rob them?"

"Oh, right," Thénardier said but it wasn't clear if he really did. "Well, go away. We have no use for your tears today!"

"They're really not all _that _rich," Éponine tried to convince him. "Really. Please don't rob them. Or at least not tonight."

"Go _home_, Éponine," Thénardier said impatiently.

Éponine shrugged. "Well, I tried."

Then she screamed and ran away before she had to face the consequences of ruining their job.

* * *

"That was my friend Éponine," Marius explained. "I would recognize her scream anywhere. That…sounded a lot better in my head."

"I quite understand," Cosette assured him. "But Éponine…I wonder if that's the same one who…"

"It is," Marius told her. "She told me."

"Oh," Cosette looked quite startled. "Do you think that we should have done something when we realized that men were here intending to rob the place?"

"I knew Éponine would take care of it," Marius replied. "She's really good like that. She's the one who helped me find you. But it wasn't very nice of her to make me think that your name was Ursule."

"I'm sure she had her reasons," Cosette said, not really wanting to discuss her past. There was a reason she usually went along with her father's strange idea she had amnesia. Perhaps it was merely wishful thinking on his part as well.

"Oh, someone's coming!" Marius said, grabbing her arm. "Come, let's hide!"

Cosette pulled her arm away. "But they're coming from inside and I live here so I have no need to hide. Besides, whoever it is might even know I'm out here and would discover you searching for me."

"You are so brilliant!" Marius said, hugging her briefly. "So wonderfully practical. I've never been like that so I usually rely on Éponine but you're much better."

Cosette blushed. "Thank you. You're very…cute."

Marius practically glowed. "She thinks I'm cute!"

"Hide!" Cosette urged and Marius ducked out of sight just as Valjean came into the garden.

"Cosette, are you okay?" Valjean demanded. "I heard a scream and then angry voices. I would have come sooner but…well, no, I really should have come sooner. I'm sorry about that. If this was really an emergency you'd probably be dead by the time I got out here. I can see that you're clearly fine but, still, one doesn't like to take chances so next time I will do better."

Cosette inclined her head. "That was my scream, father."

Valjean frowned. "I hadn't thought that that scream was yours, having a rather intimate knowledge of what your usual screams sound like. That…sounded better in my head."

"See?" Marius whispered. "It's not just me."

Cosette whacked him gently on the head to shut him up.

"What was that?" Valjean demanded.

"I don't know. I think it was just some random thieves. This is a pretty nice neighborhood so it's no surprise that people would want to steal. But, well, they've gone now so I guess we can put this whole thing behind us," Cosette said brightly.

"We can't possibly take that chance," Valjean disagreed, shaking his head. "It can't be just a random robber. These things don't happen. No, it must be Javert."

"That policeman from earlier?" Cosette asked eagerly. "Are you finally going to tell me something about the past?"

"No, that would just make you sad," Valjean told her.

"I am going out of my mind here never being told anything!" Cosette protested.

"But you're not _sad _about it," Valjean said sagely.

Cosette groaned. "And if I said that I _was _sad about it?"

Valjean thought it over. "Then you're still not as sad as you would be if you knew the truth."

"That can't possibly be true," Cosette argued.

"We're moving to England tomorrow and never coming back," Valjean announced. "Go pack, Cosette."

"You can't move to England! I have to marry your daughter!" Marius burst out. "How am I supposed to marry her if she's in England?"

"You can come with us," Cosette offered.

"And live in England?" Marius was horrified. "I'd rather die!"

Cosette looked quite put-out. "So you want to marry me but you'd rather die than take a course of action that would enable you to do that?"

"That came out wrong. Again," Marius said sheepishly. "I just sort of missed a step. I'd rather die than live without you but if the only way to be with you is to go to England then I'll have to stick with the suicide."

"I know you're very upset, Cosette," Valjean said, appearing not to notice Marius and Cosette's not exactly whispered conversation. "It won't be so bad, though. We can stop hiding once we leave the country. I really should have thought of this _years _ago…"

Review Please!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

"Right, well since tomorrow we're going to have a revolution we should probably prepare for it," Enjolras remarked.

Grantaire groaned. "It seems like all we _ever_ do anymore is plan for our revolution."

"Well it _is _going to be tomorrow," Enjolras said tolerantly.

"I don't understand, though," Combeferre admitted, embarrassed. "I thought we planned everything out. If we haven't then maybe we should move the date. Not that we're likely to find a better date than the day of Lamarque's funeral but there is nothing worse than a shoddy half-hearted revolution. We might as well not even _have _a revolution at all if that's how we're going to do it."

"Well, we did already plan everything," Enjolras told him. "Now we just need to actually build the barricades."

Combeferre blinked. "Okay, now I feel stupid. We have to actually _build _the things. Right, of course."

"It happens to the best of us, mate," Grantaire said, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Marius more than others."

"I really wish you wouldn't do this drunk," Enjolras said, sighing.

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't drunk," Grantaire replied.

"He literally means that," Courfeyrac confided. "Bahorel and I were looking for him and I only found him when I went to the tavern."

"Why didn't you look there first?" Enjolras asked.

"Hey!" Grantaire protested.

"I did," Courfeyrac admitted.

"HEY!"

"He wasn't there at ten in the morning," Courfeyrac continued.

Enjolras looked mildly impressed. "I guess it's not quite as bad as I had thought."

"Stop acting like I have a problem," Grantaire ordered.

"Then stop having a problem," Enjolras suggested. "I suppose I should thank you for showing up even though you clearly didn't come here on purpose."

Javert cleared his throat before approaching them. "Pardon, if you're quite finished…"

"Who are you?" Grantaire asked blearily. "Haven't I seen you with the police?"

"The police? Of course not! I'm a rebel," Javert said unconvincingly. "Really. I hat-ha-hat…the law and I…I'm a rebel."

Grantaire shrugged. "I guess I could have been imagining it."

"If you say so," Enjolras said uncertainly. "Combeferre, maybe you should look at this man. He doesn't seem quite right."

"I'm fine!" Javert insisted. "I want you to know that I can be a good spy. I was with the law in my youth."

Enjolras shrugged. "If you think you can. And I mean it, Combeferre…"

"The people are going to fight!" Prouvaire said excitedly, coming up to them.

"Maybe they will but it's not going to make a difference," Grantaire said, yawning.

"Stop bringing me down," Prouvaire ordered. "If I'm going to die and this will fail then I'll find out soon enough. I don't like spoilers."

Grantaire stared at him unblinkingly for a second before shrugging. "Well, that's fair."

Éponine, her hair hidden in her hat and wearing a long coat, crept up behind Marius and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hello!"

Marius jumped. "Ah! Random person, you shouldn't go around doing things like that!"

"I'm not a random person," Éponine pouted. "Or, at least, I shouldn't be to you! It's me, your best friend who is not-so-secretly in love with you!"

Marius relaxed. "Oh, Éponine! This is really no place for a woman."

"And that would be why I disguised myself," she explained. "I would have kind of thought that was obvious but, well…"

"You should get out of here before the soldiers kill all of us," Marius advised. "I mean, dying is my whole reason for being here but I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"He doesn't want me to die!" Éponine said happily. "That means he must really like me! Or that he is a semi-decent human being. Either one's good enough for me!" She paused. "Wait, did you say something about dy-"

"Never mind that," Marius cut her off hastily. He reached into his pocket and handed over a sealed letter. "Can you deliver this note to Cosette? I was just going to let it be found on my corpse and hope that it's not damaged and that it is recovered and given to Cosette before she leaves tomorrow but, on second thought, that doesn't seem very likely to reach her eyes."

Éponine hung her head. "So I'm reduced to passing love notes from my beloved to his girlfriend."

"You're the best," Marius said, grinning at her.

* * *

"Excuse me," Éponine said when Valjean answered the door. "Is Cosette here?"

Valjean looked horrified. "A _boy _knows where my daughter lives! That's almost worse than Javert knowing! Thank God we're leaving tomorrow morning!"

"I'm not actually a boy…" Éponine said, wondering why the illusion that she was a boy persisted even after she spoke. If she lived until tomorrow, she resolved to look into that.

Valjean looked closely at her and then relaxed. "You're not! Well then, yes, my daughter is in. Would you like to speak with her?"

Éponine shook her head. "There are few things I would like worse. I'm just here to deliver a letter. It's from a boy in the barricades."

Valjean was frowning again. "A boy!"

"She _is_ seventeen, monsieur," Éponine pointed out. "You're going to have to get used to the idea sooner or later."

"I wanted her to be a nun," grumbled Valjean. "And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather it be 'later' instead of 'sooner.' What's wrong with not wanting her to date until after marriage?"

"I…suspect rather a lot, monsieur," Éponine said awkwardly. "But I can see that you're a very devoted father to Cosette. Our fortunes may have changed but I…I am glad for that, at least."

Valjean blinked at her. "Do I know you?"

Éponine smiled at him. "No, you don't. You just showed up one day to take her away to that castle on a cloud she was always dreaming of."

Valjean started. "You're…"

"Yes," Éponine said simply.

"You have fallen on hard times," Valjean observed, not unkindly.

"You have not," she returned.

"Here," Valjean said, reaching into his pocket for what coins were there and pressing them into her palm. "Take this. Thank you for delivering the letter. I will see that she sees it."

Éponine nodded and turned to go, barely remembering to toss a careless 'thank you' back over her shoulder.

Valjean went back inside and she walked along the river.

"I love Marius and I am really not sure what else I am supposed to do to make him realize this," she said, sighing. "I love him so much and sometimes I feel like he's all I have to live for. But now he has _Cosette_. Of all people, why did it have to be her? But it makes him happy like I never could. So all I can do now is pray for him. Pray and…maybe something else…"

Inside the house, Valjean was staring dumbstruck at the little piece of paper.

_Darlingest Cosette, _

_I know that we only met yesterday but I love you more than I've ever loved anything or anyone ever. If it is true that you are going to England then I know that I shall simply die. I could probably just follow you if you had given me any specifics but there's a good chance my grandfather would refuse to give me the money because it's 'stupid' and I'm 'needed here in France' or something. Well, if I can't be with you then I'm just going to have to go commit suicide. Not real suicide, you understand, because that would send me to straight to_ _hell and I'd never see you again but assisted suicide which I have been assured is perfectly righteous. Admittedly the one assuring me was Enjolras and the question I asked was more about going to the barricades but, well, same thing really. So with any luck I will die and I hope that you're sad. Don't blame yourself even though if I had never met you I would not be doing this. I love you! _

_Cheers, _

_Marius_

* * *

Marius breathed the air and smiled winningly. "Isn't it a great night for a suicide?"

"The weather _is_ lovely, Marius, but could you stop calling it a suicide?" Enjolras asked, annoyed. "You're scaring the others. And I'm not sure how much help you're going to be if you're just here to die. At least Grantaire is just useless and not actively seeking death. And where is he, anyway?"

"He fell asleep," Combeferre called out. "Should I wake him?"

Enjolras sighed and shook his head. "No, let's just let him stay out of the way for awhile."

"So why is it you're out here to die, Marius?" Courfeyrac asked, mildly disturbed.

Enjolras groaned. "Did you have to ask him that? Now he's going to go on and on about it!"

"Chances are he was going to go on and on about it anyway so I just sped it up," Courfeyrac replied.

"Think of all the minutes of precious silence we could have had!" Enjolras complained.

"This way maybe he'll be done talking about it faster," Courfeyrac reasoned.

"I wish I was that optimistic," Enjolras said, shaking his head.

"He's my best friend," Courfeyrac pointed out. "I have to at least _ask_."

"Agree to disagree."

"My darling Cosette is moving _away_!" Marius whined.

"This being the girl you met yesterday?" Courfeyrac asked uncertainly.

"My life has no meaning without her," Marius said solemnly.

Courfeyrac sighed. "Grantaire was right about the Romeo syndrome…"

"I don't see why you're all complaining," Marius said crossly. "Despite my secretly-changing views, I still self-identify as a Bonapartist anyway so I wouldn't even _be _here otherwise. I still want the Emperor to come back."

"I don't know how to tell you this, Mairus," Courfeyrac said gently, "but Napoleon died eleven years ago."

"So?" Marius asked, shrugging. "I'm sure he has a nephew or something running around."

"I am _this _close to kicking you out of my barricade," Enjolras warned, "since we can't very well dramatically just leave like we did last time you went on about this."

Javert cleared his throat and they all spun around to face him.

"Just once would it kill you to appear like a normal person and not sneak up on us?" Marius demanded.

"I don't know what you mean," Javert said blandly. "I have intelligence."

"What does the one have to do with the other?" Marius demanded.

"No, he means that he has heard something of our enemy's plan," Enjolras explained. "Tell me, please."

Marius was nodding. "Huh. That does make more sense. And haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

"I wouldn't know," Javert said shortly. "I've been to their lines. I'm not going to lie to you, they have a _lot _of soldiers so this is going to be really difficult. The good news is that they're not going to attack us tonight but will instead starve us for awhile so we make an easier target when they finally do attack."

Gavroche wandered by then, glancing briefly at the group and then stopping and taking another look. "What is Inspector Javert doing here? He's like the most policeman-y policeman of all!"

Marius snapped his fingers. "Javert! _That's _why he looked so familiar! I think I met him yesterday."

"I'm surprised you even noticed," Javert said wryly. "And I deny these slanderous allegations!"

"Do you think he's right?" Combeferre asked.

"Which one?" Enjolras asked.

"Well, one of them _must _be right," Combeferre reasoned. "It's rather an either-or scenario. He is either Javert or he is not."

"Or maybe he has a split personality!" Marius cried suddenly.

Everyone stared at him.

Marius crossed his arms petulantly. "I was just trying to help…"

"I know how to settle the matter," Gavroche declared. "Hey, Inspector, I think I saw Jean Valjean earlier."

Javert's whole posture changed. "Where?"

"Told you," Gavroche said smugly.

Javert slumped. "Is that your way of saying that you haven't?"

"Who is Jean Valjean?" Marius wondered.

Gavroche shrugged. "Some guy Javert is obsessed with arresting."

"I am _not_!" Javert protested. "Why does everybody just focus on my failure to and thus interest in arresting Jean Valjean? What about the four assassination attempts I've stopped since coming to Paris? Or the seventeen serial killers I've apprehended? The eighty-four murders I've solved? Or the countless thefts, rapes, and kidnappings I've dealt with? Or what about the three convicts who broke their ban that I actually _did _manage to locate and recapture? Why doesn't anybody ever care about that?"

"Well, we could always just sort of tell that you were really focused on capturing this 'Valjean' guy," Gavroche responded.

"Or the six riots I stopped!" Javert continued. "I was on hand maintaining order and saving lives during your last little revolution two years ago and I _know_ that I saw some of you there! Why do you need another one already?"

"The last one didn't work right," Enjolras explained. "We still have a monarch."

"Well two years is too soon for most people and so no one is going to help you," Javert predicted. "You really should have waited until people's memories faded and the next generation tried rebelling."

"It's a little late for that," Courfeyrac pointed out. "And we're not willing to wait another ten or fifteen years!"

Javert shrugged. "Your loss."

"We should kill him," Courfeyrac said viciously.

"We should," Enjolras said reluctantly. "I suppose we can't have a bloodless revolution and, at any rate, we can't let a spy live. It would be setting a horrible example. Just, uh…maybe not right now."

"Why not?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Er…" Enjolras trailed off, searching for a reason. "We need to conserve ammunition!"

"Alright," Courfeyrac said reluctantly. "But first chance we get…"

"You could just stab me," Javert suggested helpfully.

"That's probably a better idea anyway," Courfeyrac agreed. "Each and every time anyone has _ever_ tried to shoot Javert, their gun has misfired you know. I don't recall anyone having any similar problems with knives though I can't really imagine how a knife wouldn't work. Breaking, perhaps, but if it's broken while stabbing it should still do the trick."

"You don't get a say in this, spy," Enjolras said harshly.

"I say," Gavroche said, standing on his tip-toes. "What's that boy doing climbing over the barricade? He's going to get shot. Wait, is that my _sister_?"

Marius's head shot up at that. "Éponine? What the hell? You weren't supposed to come back here! Barricades of suicide-"

"Of _freedom_, Marius," Enjolras corrected him tiredly.

"Are no place for women and children!" Marius exclaimed. "No offense, Gavroche."

"None taken," Gavroche assured him.

"Come to think of it, you should probably leave, too," Combeferre told him.

"Pass," Gavroche said curtly.

"Unless…did you not get a chance to deliver my letter to Cosette?" Marius asked, tears welling in his eyes. "Is it too late?"

"No, no, I gave the letter to her father just like I said and he promised to give it to her," Éponine explained.

Marius frowned, paying no attention to what was going on around him. "I said to give it to her, not her father! Now he'll never approve of me! Of course, he was going to take her away anyway so maybe the strength of my love will change his mind. But I'm going to die…curses! Why must I be at this barricade of suicide?"

"You have _got _to stop calling it that!" Enjolras called out. "And no one forced you to come."

"Well I didn't want to see Cosette and you didn't want her to see the letter until tomorrow anyway so it's all good," Éponine said, starting to sway slightly.

Marius caught her and felt something wet. "Wait…Éponine…you're bleeding!"

Éponine gave him a strange look. "That usually happens when you've been shot."

"But when did you get shot?" Marius demanded.

Éponine just shook her head disgustedly. "Does somebody else want to fill him in?"

"She _just _got shot," Courfeyrac explained. "Right now. A bullet was about to hit you but she put her hand out in front of it so it went through her hand and back. She _just _saved your life. Did you really not notice?"

Marius looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Of course I noticed…How could I not have?" He looked around. "Hey, where's her brother?"

"He's off collecting bullets from corpses," Combeferre told him. "At least he won't have to see this."

"Thanks for saving my life, Éponine," Marius said gratefully. "I'm so sorry that you're going to die, especially since I came here to die myself. But I'm kind of reconsidering the wisdom of that so…yeah."'

Éponine coughed. "Taking a bullet for you really throws a wrench in my plan for us to die together as you'll never love me in life."

"It's not like dying would make him automatically love you," Courfeyrac pointed out.

Éponine sighed. "I know, I really do."

"You tried to kill me?" Marius demanded, horrified.

Éponine rolled her eyes. "No need to be so dramatic. I didn't _force_ you to come here and, when it came down to it, I saved your life."

"Yeah, but...really," Marius said, shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Marius, she's _dying_," Enjolars said severely. "For you."

"Oh, fine," Marius said petulantly.

"Since I'm about to die and don't have time to be embarrassed, can I have one last request?" Éponine asked hopefully.

"Anything," Marius promised immediately now that he was over his annoyance at her desire to see him dead.

"Can you please kiss me?" Éponine asked softly.

Marius nodded solemnly. "But of course, Éponine."

Éponine leaned up expectantly.

"The moment you die, I will chastely kiss your forehead to give you a thoughtful and gentle farewell to an unhappy soul," he continued.

"What good will that do me?" Éponine demanded. "I'll be dead! Kiss me full on the lips while there is still time to enjoy it, damn you!"

"But-" Marius protested. "_Cosette_!"

"Oh, man up," Courfeyrac told him. "She's dying!"

"Fine," Marius grumbled and then moved in to kiss Éponine who promptly pulled him into an extremely passionate kiss.

"I love you," she said one final time, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Then she died.

"Wait, _love_?" Marius spluttered. "Where did that come from?"

"She's been saying it every twenty minutes since she met you," Enjolras told him flatly.

"I've never met this 'Cosette' but if she's the girl I'm thinking of then she was not particularly good-looking when I saw her," Courfeyrac said, though admittedly he had last seen her before she became beautiful. "Either way, though, I can't believe you spent all this time with her," he gestured to Éponine's corpse, "and didn't notice how hot she is."

Marius drew back. "Of course I noticed how hot she was! I'm not _blind_."

"I know for a fact that she felt otherwise," Enjolras informed him.

_"How?"_ Marius asked, flabbergasted.

"She and Grantaire used to get together and sing about it," Enjolras explained. Then, before Marius could get the wrong idea, he clarified, "Grantaire was not actually pining over you. He was just...But anyway. You really noticed her?"

Marius nodded. "Yes. It's just that she could not fill the Cosette-shaped hole in my heart and so I thought it best to keep things strictly platonic."

"I guarantee you that she would have been more than happy to keep you company until you stumbled upon the Cosette to fill the Cosette-shaped hole in your heart," Courfeyrac told him. "If you know what I mean."

Marius rolled his eyes. "We always know what you mean."

Enjolras was growing bored with this conversation. "Alright, we have our first casualty everyone! I'm not happy that it's a girl who was only here because she's in love with a boy who is only here to get himself killed but it will have to do. Let's not forget Éponine, everyone!"

Everyone made solemn promises to remember her, fight in her name, and not betray her.

"Hey look, a man in a uniform!" Joly cried out.

"We should shoot him," Courfeyrac declared.

"I don't know," Enjolras said uncomfortably. "We should talk to him. Maybe he's here to help."

"A member of the national guard?" Courfeyrac couldn't believe it.

"I am, in fact, really here to help," Valjean assured them.

"Then why are you wearing a uniform?" challenged Combeferre.

Valjean shrugged. "I thought it would be the most reliable way to avoid getting shot. It worked."

"There is that," Joly agreed.

"Jean Valjean!" Javert cried out, surprisingly triumphant for someone tied to a post.

Valjean froze.

"Oh, don't mind him," Enjolras told him. "According to Gavroche, who recognized him, he sees this 'Jean Valjean' everywhere."

"Only where he actually _is_!" Javert said, beginning to get frustrated.

"Of course you do," Enjolras said soothingly before turning back to Valjean. "See what I mean? And we don't mean to be rude but our last volunteer was a police spy. I sort of doubt you are one since our spy thinks you are a convict but, well, he could be pretending to get you in a good position. And I'm also not sure he's all there, if you know what I mean."

"I don't know how I can prove myself," Valjean admitted. "But really, I just want to help."

"He's no traitorous spy!" Marius declared. "He is my beloved Cosette's father and surely someone as virtuous and wonderful as her must have an absolute saint for a father!"

Valjean looked down at the praise. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Plus when my friend and I asked all of your neighbors a lot of deep and probing questions about you, they seemed to like you," Marius added.

Valjean looked mildly disturbed at this news.

"Not this again," Joly said, sighing. "Look, we'll give the man a gun as long as we don't have to hear Marius talk about his great love again!"

Valjean accepted a gun with thanks. "I take it you are Marius, then. How do you know me?"

Marius wouldn't look at him. "Well I'm not stalking your daughter, that's for sure."

"That's a relief," Valjean said dryly. "Try not to die tonight. Cosette would be very upset."

"But you're moving to England!" Marius complained. "How can I not go off and die when she's moving away?"

Javert was listening very intently to all of this.

Valjean sighed. "My plans…are in flux. We'll talk about it if you live."

"Then I'll live," Marius said as if that was that.

Valjean blinked. "Well...great. That was easier than I expected. Things have not really started yet so if we leave now then we should be able to avoid all of the-"

Marius held up a hand to interrupt him. "Wait, wait, wait! I can't just leave now! Everyone will think that I'm a total tool!"

"Too late," one of the students muttered.

Review Please!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

The enemy began to fire and everyone quickly drew cover and started firing back. Enjolras was nearly shot by a sniper but Valjean fired on the man instead and drove him back.

"You saved me!" Enjolras said, starry-eyed, once the attack had stopped. "For now, at least."

"It was the least I could do," Valjean said modestly. "But since I have saved you…you're planning on executing Javert anyway, are you not? Can I please kill him?"

Enjolras nodded solemnly. "Very well. For saving my life you may execute our spy."

A loud groan rose up.

More than one person was heard to cry out, "But _I _wanted to kill him!"

"This is ridiculous," Javert complained as Valjean untied him from the post and forced him to his feet. He led him away from the barricades and then stepped back.

"So, Javert, it's been awhile," Valjean greeted him. "I remembered your name."

"After all those years working together you really should," Javert replied. "And those silly little schoolboys kept using my name anyway so you would have had no excuse if you could not remember it. Besides, didn't I mention that it would only help me once you are back in jail? At this moment, I highly doubt that I will ever be the one to take you there."

"Stranger things have happened," Valjean replied.

Javert stared at him. "Are you…_encouraging _me? About _that_?"

Valjean shrugged. "I like to be encouraging."

"But you're not going to let me do that, are you?" Javert asked sourly. "You've hungered for this all your life. Go ahead, take your revenge!"

"I think that's overstating it a little," Valjean argued. "I mean, I didn't even meet you until a few years into my imprisonment so that was thirty-odd years without you so it's hardly 'all my life.'"

"It was an expression," Javert snapped.

"Not a very good one," Valjean observed. "Also, I had no particular issue with you until you insisted on realizing who I really was but even then you dropped it so it was my choice to tell the world the truth about myself that brought all of this upon me. You may have been obsessively trying to find me ever since then-"

"I haven't!" Javert protested once again.

"But until the other day I hadn't seen you again. And for it to be revenge, don't I have to have a legitimate grievance with you having legitimately wronged me?" Valjean inquired. He took out a knife but Javert appeared not to noticed, so annoyed was he with Valjean's words. "Are you conceding that I do?"

Javert shook his head emphatically. "Absolutely not. I was just…trying to think like you. You seem to think you're entitled to more than the law gives you or else why run away?"

"You talk too much," Valjean declared.

Javert almost choked. "You're the one lecturing me about my word choice!"

"I didn't say that I didn't as well," Valjean said blithely. He cut through the ropes.

"What are you doing?" Javert demanded. "Aren't you supposed to kill me with a gun?"

Valjean snorted. "I'm not that stupid, Javert."

"And you're not even stabbing me," Javert continued, his confusion growing by the moment. "Are you clinging to pretend goodness? Wanting to kill me without being a murderer? Or do you just want a challenge? Will you give me a knife, too, so we can fight it out?"

Valjean stared at him. "I was just going to let you go. Trust me, if I were going to kill you then I'd have just done it."

"I don't understand," Javert said, refusing to move. "And until I do understand I'm not leaving."

"Very well but the longer we're out here the greater the chance that one of those boys will come out here and actually kill you," Valjean cautioned.

Javert ignored him, thinking. Finally he snapped his fingers. "I know! You're a thief!"

"One loaf of bread!" Valjean objected.

"And since everyone knows how impossible it is for a person to, having once committed a crime, never commit it again you must want to steal something," Javert deduced.

"From you?" Valjean didn't get it. "Couldn't I just go through your pockets or whatever once you were dead? Or even before I cut your ropes since you were so obligingly tied up?"

"You want a deal," Javert clarified. "You want me to stop hunting you in exchange for my life."

"That doesn't even make any sense," Valjean said bluntly. "Even if I wanted you to stop hunting me – which I will admit that I do – I didn't need to save you to do that. I could just kill you for the same result."

"Maybe it didn't occur to you," Javert suggested.

"It absolutely would have occurred to me," Valjean insisted. "And even if I made you promise to stop hunting me, I know that you wouldn't actually keep it so what's the point?"

"No matter how many times you save my life or my career or do anything else nice for me, I'm just never going to stop hunting you," Javert swore. "We could both live to be a hundred and I'd be crawling after you still!"

"See, this might be why people think you're obsessed with me," Valjean said tactfully.

Javert threw his hands up in the air. "But I'm _really _not! I do so many other things and rarely even think of you. It's just that life keeps throwing us together! I'm getting to the point where my first instinct upon seeing you is 'Go away, Valjean!' and I have to remind myself it is my sworn duty to capture you."

"I know that, I do," Valjean promised him. "But I can sort of understand where they're coming from, too."

Javert just huffed and rolled his eyes.

"I don't hate you, you know," Valjean said at last, very quietly.

"I wouldn't care if you did," Javert replied.

"Be that as it may, I want you to know that I don't," Valjean continued. "I may not like a lot of your actions but I recognize that your motives are pure. You have a high respect for the law and I…do not completely disregard it. You are a good man and your chasing me all this time has been perfectly legitimate."

"How very touching," Javert said sarcastically. "Is this the part where you surrender yourself to my custody?"

Valjean shook his head. "Not just yet. Normally I would-"

"Oh, I'm sure," Javert cut in.

"But I have to go save my daughter's idiot boyfriend from his own suicide attempt," Valjean explained. "I will likely die trying. On the off-chance that I don't, you may come arrest me at number 55 Rue Plumet. Good day."

With that, he tried to leave but Javert grabbed a hold of his coat.

"Did you just tell me where you live? And without intending to immediately move?" Javert couldn't believe it.

Valjean nodded. "That is what just happened, yes."

"_Why_?"

"I'm old and tired of running," Valjean replied.

Javert barked out a laugh. "Yes but not too tired to become a revolutionary, I see. And you've been out of prison for too long if you think that that's preferable to being on the lam."

Valjean couldn't contain his surprise. "Should an officer of the law really say something like that?"

"I don't see why not," Javert replied primly. "It may be my duty to return you to prison as it is the law but that doesn't mean that prison is a good place to be. In fact, if it were then it wouldn't be much of a prison."

"I haven't forgotten," Valjean replied. "I just…I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"All this time and you still haven't learned to think things through. You should really just kill me now and pretend that none of this ever happened," Javert said seriously.

Valjean's eye twitched. "I'm not going to kill you."

"But it's just so embarrassing to have my life saved by a convict," Javert complained.

"That's rather your problem, I think, and I've never yet killed anybody and won't start because you find being alive _embarrassing_. Now kindly go away so I could go try and keep Cosette's idiot boyfriend alive," Valjean requested.

"He really doesn't deserve it since he came here to die in the first place," Javert opined.

Valjean sighed. "I know but Cosette seems to like him and I could never deny her anything. She's really turned out remarkably sweet for how much I've spoiled her."

"What does she see in him?" Javert wondered.

Valjean looked positively pained. "I overheard her saying something about dimples."

* * *

"He sure is taking an awfully long time to execute the prisoner," Joly said, concerned.

"Let him enjoy it," Courfeyrac recommended, "he's probably going to die tomorrow."

"Let's hope he's not enjoying it _too _much," Enjolras muttered.

"Since we're all probably going to die tomorrow, does anybody feel like getting _extremely _drunk tonight?" Feuilly inquired.

Everyone waited expectantly.

"Grantaire is still asleep," Enjolras let them know.

"_Still_?" Combeferre couldn't believe it.

Enjolras colored. "He had quite a bit to drink last night. Let's just leave it at that."

"But how do you-" Marius started to say.

"Let's leave it at that!" Enjolras repeated louder.

They got out the alcohol and started to drink and make grand toasts, trying to pretend they weren't all terrified.

Marius, predictably, was a moody drunk. Well, he was in a moody state sober so perhaps that had something to do with it.

"My life literally has no meaning whatsoever without Cosette in it," he declared even though nobody was really listening. "And I guess Éponine is dead, too, which just makes things worse but…_Cosette_! I have no idea how I managed to live a single day, let alone twenty-some years, without her! She's so perfect! I love her. I want to die because I'm not looking at her right now. And I bet her father really will take her to another country after all and is just humoring me so I won't die. I wonder if she'll cry for me. I know she loves me but is love enough to make people weep? Hm…"

Valjean was abstaining from the alcohol because he needed to be clear-headed to try and save Marius. Also, he didn't think drink and praying went well together and he had a feeling that he needed to do a whole lot of praying to keep Marius from successfully getting himself killed.

"You've always been there when I've needed you," Valjean said, looking up at the sky. "Except, I suppose, during those nineteen years in prison. But I wasn't a religious man then so perhaps that had something to do with it. Well, from what I've seen Marius is indecisive and melodramatic, being driven to suicide at the slightest provocation. That's not really what I'd want for my daughter's husband but, well, it's what she wants and hopefully, since this is all stemming from the loss of her, with her in his life he'll stop it and grow up. I can only hope. He's the only son I'm going to get, you know. I really wish that I could have had an actual son but I suppose it was not to be. Perhaps my complete lack of sex had something to do with it, I don't know. But that's not the point. _Please _help me keep him alive. I know I'll need all the help I can get."

* * *

Enjolras looked hopefully over the barricades one more time. Still nothing. He reluctantly turned to face his men.

"Well, it's official. No one is coming," Enjolras said, trying not to sound bitter.

"The people of Paris fail," Courfeyrac said, not bothering to hide his own bitterness.

"Well," Enjolras said, resolving to stay brave, "we won't abandon them. Let's send all the women and children and fathers of children home."

"Can we send Marius home, too?" someone requested. "He's still moping."

"We can't force him to leave," Enjolras said patiently. "Although, believe me, I understand your wish."

"I'm not leaving!" Gavroche announced.

"You're ten!" Enjolras protested.

"Not leaving," Gavroche said stubbornly.

"I don't understand why we can't all leave," Combeferre said. "I mean, if apparently anyone we want can leave then why not all of us?"

Enjolras shrugged. "I would rather die for a principle. You can leave if you want."

"I can't leave if you're not leaving," Combeferre said immediately. "That would make me look _terrible_."

"We need more bullets," Feuilly declared. "There are plenty on all of the corpses but, well, they were shot where they were for a reason."

"I'll go," Valjean offered. "I don't die like a normal person."

"No, I'll do it!" Gavroche insisted, rushing out. He grabbed a few bullets.

"Get back here!" several people called to him.

"I'm not listening. They wouldn't shoot a child," Gavroche said confidently. And then they did. "Wow, no wonder we're revolting. These people _suck_…"

"Well that settles it," Courfeyrac said furiously. "They kill a child right in front of us so we're going to kill as many as we can while we're still alive."

What happened next was quick and brutal. The revolutionaries took out as many of them as they could but they were really no match for the national guard. Valjean just sort of stayed out of the way and nobody really shot at him. Once Marius was shot, Valjean went over, picked him up, and quietly left.

Thénardier wandered onto the scene then, much like Gavroche did. He was happily picking everyone's pockets and was really excited when he found a gold watch in his son's pocket. Strangely, the bullets never hit him, either.

"I love a good revolution," he said, pleased. "I'm not even sure who is revolting against what but it's _great _for business."

When he was done looting, he headed over to the sewers, still perfectly unmolested.

At last, Enjolras was the only one of the revolutionaries still present and breathing. He was surrounded on all sides and out of ammunition.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said boldly.

"You should be," one of the guards told him. "We're going to kill you."

"It doesn't matter. There will be others who will take our place," Enjolras predicted.

The guard laughed at him. "You said the people would be with you tonight, as well."

Enjolras frowned, quite put out. "Well I'm sure that at some point before this world dies there will be some revolution in France and it will be successful."

The guard thought about it. "I'll give you that. Maybe. Men, are you ready?"

They were just taking aim when Grantaire stumbled out into the open. "What did I miss?" he asked blearily.

"Who is this?" the guard demanded. "Another rebel?"

"I've never seen him before in my life!" Enjolras cried out desperately.

Grantaire frowned, almost looking hurt. "What a thing to say! Just because I'm not as gung-ho about this revolution business as you all are. I thought we were friends, Enjolras! Honestly, I have had it up to _here _with everyone acting like I'm so useless to the cause all the time!"

"See!" Enjolras said, seizing on that. "He's not even a revolutionary."

Grantaire was puzzled until he looked around and his eyes lit up. "Ah, I see what's going on here. We've been overcome and our friends were all killed and you're about to be executed and wish to spare me."

"You see that?" Enjolras exclaimed. "He doesn't know! He doesn't know because he slept through the entire thing!"

"Well?" the guard asked. "Is it true? Do you really not have anything to do with this?"

Grantaire hesitated for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. He strode boldly over to Enjolras and grasped his hand. "I've always loved you."

Whatever Enjolras had been expecting to hear, it wasn't that. "Wait, _what_? Grantaire, I-"

"Viva la Republic!" Grantaire thundered.

And that was that.

* * *

Travelling through the sewers with Marius on his back, Valjean was most unfortunate to run straight into Javert.

"Really?" Valjean demanded, eyes raised skyward. "I couldn't even get him home first?"

"Believe it or not, I wasn't actually looking for you," Javert informed him.

"So this is just one of those times you were doing your job and coincidentally came across me which helps everyone think you're obsessed?" Valjean asked.

Javert nodded. "Precisely. Thénardier bribed someone to get out of jail so in addition to some massive internal investigation going on, I'm being charged to re-arrest him. Also, we suspect he's corpse-robbing."

Valjean nodded. "Oh, he is. He's at the barricades."

Javert was absolutely floored. "He's a _revolutionary _now?"

"Of course not!" Valjean exclaimed. "He's just there to steal from corpses just as I am here to save my daughter's idiot boyfriend."

"I suppose _that's _not illegal," Javert said slowly. "What you're doing, not what he was doing. Both of the hims. But that's a small comfort since everything about you has been illegal since you fled from parole."

"So you wish to arrest me?" Valjean asked rhetorically.

"I did say that I was going to," Javert replied.

"Can this maybe wait an hour or so?" Valjean asked politely. "I'm rather in the middle of saving Marius' life right now. And while you may have had a point about the length of time raising Cosette would have taken – I'm just about done now – this really won't take very long."

Javert made an impatient noise. "Why is it that every time I see you you're in the middle of saving someone? You know that that makes me look like an ass for getting in your way! Do you just plan it out that way?"

Valjean shook his head. "No, I don't. I'm just usually in the middle of saving someone."

"That makes it worse," Javert complained.

"I'm…sorry that my attempting to be a decent person is so problematic for you," Valjean said uncertainly.

Javert glared at him. "You should be."

"Look, I don't mean to cut this short or show a lack of concern for your problems," Valjean said delicately. "But Marius is really in terrible condition. Do you think perhaps you can just let me go and take him to safety? You already know where I live."

"I don't know," Javert said, frowning. "Being a rebel is quite illegal as well."

"Arresting him now will only kill him," Valjean pointed out. "And in a few days everyone knows that there will be amnesty for the survivors in order to smooth things along. But even if you ignore that, you can easily find out where he lives and he won't be able to be moved for quite some time so you can arrest him at your leisure when he's _not _bleeding internally. And if he dies, well, that's perfectly lawful."

Javert sighed. "Oh, fine, whatever. I'll be at your place in an hour unless I decide to throw myself in a river first."

Valjean nodded. "That sounds fair."

Valjean left and Javert began walking towards the Seine. When he got to it, he stood staring at it for quite some time. At last, he took out some paper and began to write.

"Well, this just doesn't make any sense," he declared. "A convict, someone who maliciously stole an entire loaf of bread and then maliciously broke parole to maliciously become a saint, is actually a good person who saves people? How can I arrest him if he's a good person? But the _law_! It has been a very long, very trying day and I can barely think straight. Clearly the best thing to do is not to give myself some time to see if I can resolve this dilemma. No, instead I must jump into the Seine. After all, when one cannot do one's duty one must resign. This goes a little higher than my police duty and so I must resign life. Now just to leave a few helpful suggestions to improve police procedure and no hint of what I'm thinking right now and…Perfect."

He set the paper aside next to his coat and then, completely rationally, jumped into the Seine.

Review Please!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Marius, much recovered and fully pardoned, was standing around and sulking.

"I am so glad to have my dear Cosette here with me and pleased her father inexplicably changed his mind about moving away so I suppose that my life is still worth living but I really hate that all of my friends are dead," he complained. "And our revolution didn't even work. This whole thing has been _really _stupid. And I wonder who saved me anyway."

"You shouldn't worry about things like that," Cosette advised, coming into the room. "I mean, you'll probably never find out. If they wanted you to know then they would have told you, right?"

"I'm actually pretty sure that it was your father, Cosette," Marius told, taking her hand in his automatically.

Cosette blinked at him, surprised. "My father? Really? What makes you think that?"

"Well, you told me yourself that he doesn't care at all for politics," Marius reminded her.

"That is true," she agreed.

"And yet he was still at the barricade and we were the only two people to survive that particular barricade. Either he survived on his own and some other random mysterious person happened to save the man his daughter loved instead of anybody more invested in the revolution or, well, your father totally saved me," Marius explained.

Cosette nodded. "That does make sense when you put it like that. But I do wonder why he wouldn't say anything about having rescued you."

"Well, you know your father better than I do, Cosette," Marius replied. "Is he the type to take credit for his accomplishments."

"No," Cosette said immediately. "Just…no."

"And since your father saved me and hasn't moved away, I think I can assume that he has come to terms with our relationship and we can get married!" Marius said happily.

"What about your grandfather?" Cosette asked him. "You mentioned him not being happy about it, I think."

Marius shrugged. "Threaten to die from your wounds a few times and you'd be surprised how amenable the people who love you are to your whims."

"Oh Marius!" Cosette said blissfully, embracing him. "We're going to be together forever! Think of how wonderful it shall all be!"

"I know, I know!" Marius cried. "And it's really giving me something to live for when pretty much every friend I have is dead. Even Grantaire and who even knows how _that _happened since he slept through the entire revolution up until at least when I got shot and lost consciousness."

"It was rather silly that we fell in love before we even knew each other's name, though," Cosette remarked.

"We didn't _need _to know. Our love is just that strong," Marius insisted.

Cosette beamed at him. "Oh, I'm so happy!"

Valjean walked into the room then but the lovers were too caught up in their own happiness to notice him. "I guess this is really happening. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself since I singlehandedly and heroically saved Marius from the barricade. What I was thinking, I'll never know. But I just want Cosette to be happy and, strangely, this is happiness for her. Huh. He _does _have dimples."

Marius looked up then. "Oh, thank you so much for letting me marry your daughter after all!" He paused. "I _can _marry your daughter, can't I?"

Valjean sighed. "Yes, yes you may."

"Success!" Marius cheered. "You're going to live with us, you know, and we're all going to be almost obscenely happy."

"That does sound nice," Valjean said wistfully. "And I would love to, really. It's a shame that I have a somewhat self-destructive bent and must throw a wrench in that plan."

"What?" Cosette asked, alarmed.

"Never mind," Valjean told her. He took her in his arms and embraced her before kissing her on the cheek. "I will miss you, my darling child."

"But father, I'm only getting married, not leaving. And you're even moving in with us!" Cosette exclaimed. "I love both you and Marius so much that it would kill me to have to choose between you and the only way I can possibly be happy is if the three of us are happy together."

"Never forget how much I love you. Goodbye," Valjean said sadly.

"I feel like we're having two different conversations," Cosette said, frowning.

"Would you mind letting me speak to your intended alone?" Valjean requested.

"It's alright, Cosette," Marius assured her. "This is probably the point where my future father-in-law threatens me with bodily harm if I even _think _of hurting you. I can help him brainstorm appropriate punishments for if I ever take leave of my senses and do something so abominable."

"Well, if you're sure…" Cosette said doubtfully. Casting one last look at her father, she left the room.

Valjean didn't take his eyes off of the door she had disappeared through until Marius started speaking.

"So I was thinking that we should get this down in writing and maybe get it notarized because if I ever become such a vile fiend that would hurt my darling Cosette then I might not be counted upon to accept my punishment with grace and dignity," Marius began.

"Believe me, Marius, if I thought you hurting Cosette was even vaguely within the realms of possibility we'd be halfway to the Americas by now," Valjean said seriously.

Marius smiled at this show of faith. "Then what did you wish to discuss when Cosette was not around?"

"I have to go away forever and I need you to lie about why," Valjean said bluntly.

Marius' smile faltered. "Could…you repeat that?"

Patiently, Valjean repeated what he just said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. But I feel like I missed something," Marius told him.

Valjean sighed. "It's like this. I never told Cosette this and I don't want her to know because it would just make her unhappy."

"And you don't think that going away forever would make her unhappy?" Marius demanded.

"It would make her less unhappy than knowing the truth," Valjean insisted.

"I call bull on that right now," Marius argued.

Valjean glared at him. "Will you just listen to the story?"

Marius crossed his arms. "Fine. But I'm not changing my mind. Going away forever and lying to Cosette are two very stupid things to do."

"Forty years ago, I was a poor tree-pruner in Faverolles," Valjean began. "I lived with my widowed older sister and her seven small children. I was their only provider and I was out of work one winter. We were all starving and one of the children was close to death. I…stole a loaf of bread. Nineteen years later, I was released from Toulon on parole and-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Marius interrupted. "Are you saying you did _nineteen years _in prison for stealing a loaf of bread?"

"There…might have been a few escape attempts," Valjean admitted. "But yes, pretty much. My first four days of parole went fairly poorly. The minute people found out I was a convict I was cheated and thrown out of every place possible. There was a kind bishop who took me in but I was ungrateful and stole from him. I was caught and brought back and he did not turn me in and gave me more silver. I decided the only rational thing to do at this point was to attempt to be a saint. I don't know how successful I've been but I've certainly tried."

"Oh, you are _extremely _successful," Marius assured him. "Almost disturbingly so and that's even before I found out that you're a saint now despite your…inauspicious beginning."

"See, now you're starting to judge me for what happened!" Valjean cried out, strangely triumphant.

Marius blinked and quickly tried to backtrack. "No, that's not it at all. I just think it's much more remarkable that you've managed to be a saint than if, say, someone like me managed to be a saint since nothing really bad has ever happened to me. And why are you even telling me any of this anyway if you think I'm going to judge you? Am I supposed to?"

"It's perfectly natural," Valjean assured him. "I judge myself all the time."

"You might have stolen a single loaf of bread but _I _committed treason over at the barricade," Marius pointed out. "I think that's a little more serious and yet you don't see me trying to ruin my life over it."

"You were pardoned," Valjean said indifferently. "And I was there, too, and pardoned for that so I still have one more offence over you."

"Is that what this is about?" Marius demanded. "You want a pardon? I'll get my grandfather to take care of that today."

"That's a kind thought but I don't really want a pardon," Valjean told him. "And most people think I'm dead anyway."

"Then I am not understanding any of this," Marius admitted.

" I tell you this now because, should the truth ever be discovered, Cosette will be disgraced and I shan't be able to live with myself."

Marius stared at him. "And yet you don't want a pardon."

"I do not," Valjean confirmed.

"After forty years, twenty on the run, what are the odds that the truth will ever come out?" Marius demanded. "I mean, _really_?"

"Well, significantly less now that Javert went and killed himself," Valjean admitted.

Marius' eyes widened. "Javert? Does this mean that _you're _that Jean Valjean guy he kept talking about?"

Shame-faced, Valjean nodded. "I am indeed. Now you can see why I must go."

"I don't see anything of the sort!" Marius protested. "I make it a point to never care about anything that happened before I was born and this is all ancient history. Besides, I don't want to be _that guy_."

"What guy?" Valjean asked blankly.

"You know," Marius said, gesturing vaguely. "That guy, the one who unjustly persecutes a saint and ends up disparaged and hated for it."

"You won't be," Valjean assured him.

"I'm not so sure," Marius replied. "And what will Cosette say? She won't care any more than I do, I assure you, and she's not going to believe any nonsense about you just going away forever and never saying goodbye."

"But I did say goodbye a few minutes ago," Valjean pointed out.

"Well, I suppose you did," Marius conceded. "But you didn't make it clear that you were leaving and that's kind of a dick move and she'll just be so upset."

"It's really better this way," Valjean declared solemnly.

"For _who_?" Marius demanded. "People who hate us and want us to be miserable?"

"I really wish you would be more sensible about this," Valjean said, sighing. "But it doesn't matter. I trust that you'd rather tell her that I went on a long trip instead of me just walking out of her life forever for whatever reason. And since I'm leaving right now and not telling you where I'm going, you have no choice about that."

"But…I just…_what_?" Marius cried out. "This is so stupid!"

Cosette came back into the room then, distracting him. "What's going on, Marius? You sound upset. And where's my father?"

Valjean had disappeared from the room. Marius immediately ran to the door and looked around outside but he couldn't see the older man anywhere.

He went back inside and faced the still-waiting Cosette.

"Well, about that…" he said slowly. "Your father has suddenly and unexpectedly gone on away on a very long trip."

Cosette just stared at him. "Right before my wedding?"

Marius winced. "I, um…yes?"

* * *

"This is the best day of my life!" Marius said jubilantly.

"This is certainly a good day," Cosette agreed. "It would be better if my father were here, though. Are you _sure _you don't know where he is?"

"I have people looking but he's just too good," Marius told her. "He's probably left Paris and perhaps even France behind completely."

"The Baron and Baroness de Thénard wish to pay their respects to the bride and groom!" someone declared.

Cosette glanced over at the couple in question and paled. "This is not happening. They are not here. If you'll need me, I'll be avoiding them over there."

She quickly left the area leaving Marius alone with the Thénardiers.

"You are nowhere clean enough to be a baron and baroness," Marius said disdainfully. "And your clothes have holes in them."

"It is our birth or marriage that gives us our title and not our wealth," Madame Thénardier said easily.

"By the way, we want money," Thénardier told him.

"I have heard all about your attempts to rob Cosette and her father and how you want more money for her father having saved her from you," Marius said frostily. "Well she's an adult now and my wife and I'd like to see you prove any of what you claim so I'm not paying you a sou."

"That's fine, we're not here about that," Thénardier assured him.

"And we are not the Thénardiers anyway," Madame Thénardier lied.

"You're Éponine's parents and she deserved far better," Marius said coldly. "She probably _is _happier up in heaven than down here with scum like you."

"So judgmental!" Thénardier moaned. "And we lost our _daughter_! And our son, for that matter."

Marius sighed heavily. "Just get on with it then get the hell out of my wedding."

"Your bride's father is a murderer," Thénardier declared boldly.

"Thief, actually, and that was forty years ago," Marius corrected automatically. "Or do you mean with Javert? Because he claimed that Javert killed himself and the newspaper agreed. Since he was sent out to kill Javert – after _volunteering _– I'm really not sure how that came to be but he left a note behind. It didn't seem very good as far as a suicide note went but it was there."

"I'm talking about that corpse I saw him drag through the sewers on the night of that revolution of yours," Thénardier countered. "See this ring? The dead man was wearing it. And why would that man have a dead body unless he killed him? Really. It's just logical."

Marius' eyes widened. "That's _my _ring!" He snatched it back from Thénardier.

Madame Thénardier frowned. "That's odd. Why would a murdered man have your ring? Well, surely we deserve something for getting it back for you!"

"That man wasn't murdered, he was me. And my father-in-law hadn't killed me but was saving me," Marius explained. "I knew it! I just _knew _it! Oh, this whole thing is so stupid!"

"I'm sure it is," Thénardier agreed. "Can we have some money?"

"That depends," Marius said, by now thoroughly sick of Éponine's terrible parents. "If I give you money will you get the hell out of my country and never come back?"

Thénardier shrugged. "I don't see why not. I'm sure my darling Azelma would like the American slave trade very much."

Disgusted, Marius threw some money at him and began to stalk over to Cosette. He stopped and backtracked. "One more thing. I've actually been looking for my father-in-law for awhile now. Do you know where he is?"

Madame Thénardier nodded. "Of course we do. He's at that convent that he and Cosette stayed at for years on end after sneaking into Paris."

"How do you even know that?" Marius demanded.

Madame Thénardier shrugged. "We hear things."

Marius headed back over to Cosette, slapping his forehead in embarrassment. "The convent he lived for years! Why didn't I think of that?"

"Are they gone?" Cosette asked hopefully.

"I got them to leave the country," Marius said distractedly.

Cosette breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God! You don't want to know the mess they made of my early childhood before my father rescued me. And speaking of…"

"They actually were able to help me find where your father is," Marius informed her.

Cosette beamed and grabbed his arm. "Take me there now!"

"I will," Marius promised. "Just as soon as you promise me that you won't judge me for not having realized where he would be sooner."

* * *

Valjean, looking significantly more old and frail since he had last seen Cosette, was kneeling in the chapel and praying. "I figure I'm going to die soon and I'd really just rather get on with it since I'm never going to see Cosette again. I wish that she could somehow be here with me while I die and be terribly distraught over my passing. Not that I would ever want my dear Cosette to be unhappy, of course, but if she really loves me then she will be and I don't want to be alone when I go. But oh, that's impossible now. It's not like I know exactly where she is or anything. Who wants to ruin a wedding with a death? She'll find out soon enough, though hopefully not soon enough that her wedding anniversary will forever be tainted by the knowledge of my passing."

Suddenly, he heard Fantine's voice saying, "You are truly a good man, having raised my child better than I've ever heard of anyone raising a child ever. God will forgive you for everything, I'm sure, though there's really not much to forgive since you decided to be a saint twenty years ago."

Valjean frowned. "Normally I would say that hearing dead people is not a good sign. But maybe I'm not crazy and just close to death. Or even if I am hallucinating, it might just be a part of death. I think I'm a little old to just randomly go crazy. I should probably respond to that, I think. Thank you, Fantine. Raising Cosette was the best thing that ever happened to me and just because most of my life was very miserable doesn't take away from how wonderful raising Cosette was."

Cosette ran into the chapel then, Marius following close behind her.

"Father! There you are! We've been looking for you for weeks! You missed my wedding! What happened?" she demanded, falling to her knees beside him and hugging him tightly.

"There is an answer to that question but I'm dying so I don't feel that it's my responsibility to provide it," Valjean declared. "Ask your husband."

"Oh, thanks a lot," Marius snapped. "And you said I shouldn't tell her!"

"Wait, you've been keeping secrets from me?" Cosette asked, stunned and hurt.

"Um...well..." Marius said awkwardly. "I feel like I should take this opportunity to remind you that if our marriage is never ever consummated _ever _then it's not legal."

"Sorting out this conundrum is something you can do after I die," Valjean said unsympathetically. "Cosette, does you being here mean you forgive me?"

"Forgive you for what?" Cosette didn't understand. "Just up and leaving? I'm very upset about that but since you not being there was why I was upset, it doesn't make any sense to respond by refusing to see you. I love you."

"Thank God I've lived to see this day," Valjean said, content. "Do you forgive me, Marius?"

"After the way you're just leaving me to deal with all of this when it wasn't even my fault?" Marius demanded.

Valjean and Cosette were looking expectantly at him.

Marius sighed. "Fine, whatever, I forgive you for that. And I have nothing else I even need to forgive you for since it's all ancient history and even if it weren't you saved me at the barricade! Like I said, you're a damn saint! That…sounded a little weird but it's true!"

"I was already resigned to die but now that you're here this is just about the most perfect death that I could ever imagine," Valjean said happily.

"I'm glad you're happy, father, but I think maybe you should consider _not _dying," Cosette said hopefully. "I don't want to lose you! I love you and these last few weeks have been utterly wasted since you weren't here."

"_Right_ _here_," Marius said, shaking his head. "Oh well, I suppose I know what she meant."

"I'll try but I think it's a little late," Valjean told her. "I'm already hearing the voice of your dead mother. And speaking of, while I was waiting to die I wrote you a letter explaining everything."

"Does this mean I don't have to do it?" Marius asked, stunned.

"Well, you might have to fill in any details that I didn't think to mention in my massive missive but might have told you in the five minute conversation we had about it," Valjean replied.

Cosette was saying something else but Valjean couldn't hear her because Fantine started speaking again, welcoming him into heaven. Strangely enough, Éponine was there, too. There were other dead people that he would have liked to see more than a girl he met twice but he supposed that he'd see them soon enough.

It was silent in the chapel after Valjean had passed for quite some time. Cosette seemed almost in a trance and since it was her father who died, Marius figured that it was up to her to decide how long they were going to sit on the cold ground of the chapel.

Finally, she turned to him. "I hope you realize that I am _never _going to be able to celebrate our wedding anniversary now."

Marius nodded, of course that made sense. "How about our half-anniversary?"

Cosette stared at him. "Our what?"

"What?" he asked defensively. "It works for birthdays!"

Review Please!


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